


Found in Translation

by ladymac111



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Festivals, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hunk Appreciation Big Bang 2018, Languages and Linguistics, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, only chaste sharing there's no nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: When Hunk and Pidge are chosen to be the Coalition's representatives on a diplomatic mission to Runmayr, they expect to find a calm, tropical paradise and spend their time working with local engineers and navigating a glitchy translation algorithm.  Hunk didn't expect to get the opportunity to tell Pidge how he feels about her, and he might have gotten in over his head without realizing it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Hunk Appreciation Big Bang! My artist partner was my dear friend Soop, whose art you can see [here on tumblr.](https://hidge-resource.tumblr.com/post/176461992416/hello-naughty-children-its-beach-vacation-romcom) She brought this story to life in exactly the way I hoped she would and I am eternally grateful for her brilliant work.
> 
>  
> 
> [As always, there is a playlist. Enjoy!](https://open.spotify.com/user/129963216/playlist/0HoMZX0iPZteIPJgzSbzz0?si=EWlSiw-CQTS0JqEdjErqaQ)
> 
>  
> 
> A note on the invented language:  
> Basherlik is written using the Hebrew/Yiddish alphabet since I wanted something that would actually display in AO3 without using images. I’ve been learning Yiddish on my own for a while, since my great-grandparents’ efforts to assimilate meant that none of my living relatives speak it. However, Basherlik is not actually Yiddish or Hebrew, and although I have based it on existing languages, it is fictional.

Lance couldn’t hide his envy, and Hunk only felt a little bit bad about enjoying the schadenfreude.

He would never say as much out loud, of course, because Lance was basically his brother, and rubbing it in would really be mean.  But he also wasn’t going to stop Pidge when she gloated about it a little. This was a mission that promised to be memorable, and for once it was very nearly certain to be entirely pleasant.

It had all come up rather suddenly -- in the way of all things on Team Voltron -- but there had been plenty of time for Hunk and Pidge to get excited about their quiet, peaceful mission of diplomacy and technological hackery to the newly-liberated planet Runmayr, which according to all reports was basically a tropical paradise.  A mission which would be just the two of them, for an entire week before their wormhole home came back.

There was a part of Hunk’s mind -- well, his heart, if he was being honest with himself -- that had been dormant for quite some time, kept quiet by his own determination to not go making changes, to not mess with the way things were, with the team dynamic.  But the prospect of spending this whole week with Pidge had awakened it again, and for the first time in probably a year he found he couldn’t ignore it.

He _liked_ her.  Which was the understatement of the decapheeb, but he refused to use any other word for it.  She was a close friend, and over the years they’d been in space that friendship had deepened into something even more, something he couldn’t quite nail down.  It was something profound, something sublime.

He supposed his realization that they were _more_ had started during that brief time her father was with the team, and that otherwise unremarkable moment that was forever stuck in his memory, when Sam had basically said “ _you guys should be a couple._ ”  At the time, his immediate reaction had been “ _um, no, we’re friends, why do people always make that assumption about guys and girls_ ” -- and he’d seen the same emotion on Pidge’s face.  But as time had gone on, as he’d persistently failed to forget it, he’d started to feel like maybe there was something to it.  They were friends, of course, but they didn’t have to be _just_ friends.  There was all this promise hanging between them, and his heart was telling him now that he would only get that if he went for it, if he told her how he felt.

Which was a terrible idea.  There was no reason to change what they had, to risk their current relationship just because he kind of wanted to run his fingers through her hair and taste her lips.

No, _stop,_ there’s no room for this.  Not with the mission ongoing.

There were good, Voltron-related reasons that it was only the two of them going to this planet, but even when he was successfully ignoring those confusing feelings about Pidge, Hunk couldn’t help feeling like they must have done something really amazing in a past life that they were getting rewarded for.  He’d felt that especially strongly while he was packing his bag for the trip: their intel told them that their destination city’s average daytime high at this time of year was around 25° Celsius, which was pretty much perfect weather as far as Hunk was concerned. Warm enough to run around in shorts and a t-shirt but without getting uncomfortably sweaty, and cool enough at night to snuggle up in a light blanket.

Not that he expected _snuggling_ , that was the crush flaring up and he was _not_ going to actually devote any processor time to that idea.  It would be a tremendously bad idea and he was going to pretend he’d never had the notion.

A colleague of Matt’s in the resistance had spearheaded the surgical strike that removed the Galra from the system, and had been the first non-Galra off-worlder to meet the inhabitants of Runmayr, the Basherim.  The planet had been discovered by the Galra only one year previously, which was a year and a half on Runmayr, and the Basherim had put up the best struggle they could while the invaders ransacked the planet for its heavy metals and tried to find a way to use the local technology.  They hadn’t been particularly successful on the second point, which Matt credited as a detail that made it possible for the rebels to sneak in, work with a few of the natives, and drive the off Galra in one fell swoop.

Normally, this would be cause for the full Team Voltron show of arms, complete with all of Lance’s favorite pageantry.  But the Basherim were an especially peaceful people, extremely wary of strangers, and unaccustomed to violence, especially on the scale which Voltron waged it.  They were grateful for their liberation, of course, but the Coalition had determined rather quickly that their usual propaganda would be counterproductive on Runmayr.

So they pared it down, and pared it down more, and had a few long meetings with the Basherim representatives before the Coalition leaders finally agreed that they would send two of the paladins, with only one lion, during the planet’s upcoming new year festival season.  The two paladins would not only be goodwill ambassadors and discuss the mission of the Voltron Coalition, but they would also begin the work of developing conversion protocols so that the Basherim could interlink with the other technological systems in their sector, and finally join the galactic community.

Hunk and Pidge were the obvious choices: when something needed hacking and engineering, you knew who to call.  They were also, as Allura put it, unlikely to cause a diplomatic incident. Which could have been part of the reason that Lance was kind of sulky.

Being chosen for the mission had a couple of downsides too, though.  Or, well, at least one. Once they’d been chosen, they’d been subjected to an extremely tedious conference call with the Coalition captain who had gotten to know the Basherim the best, and had to cram as much information as they possibly could about the planet and people and culture based on sketchy and incomplete reports.  But they got the basics, and Hunk figured as long as they took it easy and were flexible, it couldn’t be too bad. Lucky for him, they knew that festival season involved an awful lot of banquets, and food-related diplomacy was definitely his strong suit. Pidge was less adventurous about what she ate, but she tended to trust Hunk’s analysis of what was good.

The big problem they faced was the language.  Their translation algorithms seemed to really struggle with it, for some reason.  Possibly because Basherlik was simply new to it and it didn’t yet have a large enough sample size for the neural net to learn from, but there seemed to also be an issue with the complexity of the language, which seemed to be highly contextual and idiomatic.  And unfortunately, this was a low priority in terms of Coalition resources -- two paladins for seven days was all they would spare, and they’d just have to make do with the translator as it was.

The reports from the Coalition’s past interactions with the Basherim included numerous instances where the translator had simply given up on certain words or phrases, forcing the participants to basically play intergalactic diplomacy charades.  Despite that, it hadn’t gone badly at all; the Basherim seemed to be an easygoing people who cared about understanding and teamwork, even if it meant they would have to do quite a bit of work for it. Or their ambassador was, anyway, though that still boded well.

Finally, it was time to go.  Lance and Coran trooped down to the green lion’s hangar with them, and Lance seemed to have gotten enough sulking out of his system to give them both goodbye hugs.  “And I expect you to bring me back a souvenir,” he said.

Hunk gave him a thumbs up.  “You got it. I’m hoping to bring back a ton of fruit.”

“Now, don’t forget about the translator issues,” Coran warned.

“I’m on it,” Pidge said.  “We need to double-check technical terms to be sure they really mean the same thing as it says.”

“Very good.  Your mission will provide valuable information for our translator algorithms.”

“Have fun, guys,” Lance said.  “I wish I could go, but I’ll wait for your pictures.”

Pidge bumped his shoulder with her fist.  “You’ll get your chance.

“Paladins?”  Allura’s voice echoed over the intercom.  “I’m about to start the teludav for you, are you ready to go?”

“Almost,” Pidge answered, looking at Hunk, who nodded.  “We’re just getting into the lion.”

“Good.  Once you’ve launched I’ll open the wormhole.”

Pidge walked over and set her hand on the green lion’s enormous paw, and the lion lowered its head to the ground, mouth open.  She picked up her bag and her helmet, and with one last wave to Lance and Coran, she climbed inside.

Lance grabbed Hunk’s elbow before he could follow her.  “Hey,” he said quietly. “Have fun, okay?”

He could tell something was on Lance’s mind, something beyond his jealousy about the mission.  “I will?”

Lance nodded, and swallowed.  “I think you should take the opportunity with Pidge.”

Hunk’s heart skipped a beat.  “What?”

His friend gave him a slightly sad, lopsided smile.  “You won’t get a better chance to really talk to her.”

Did Lance know something?  Had he somehow noticed this thing growing in Hunk’s heart that he was only barely aware of himself?

Did he know something about Pidge?

It was way too much to process, and it was all happening far too quickly.  He was grasping for words but they kept slipping away.

“Hey!” Pidge called, from inside her lion.  “Let’s get going.”

Lance gave his shoulder a firm slap.  “See you in a week, buddy.”

Hunk was unexpectedly torn between going with Pidge and getting to the bottom of whatever Lance was on about, but the draw of Pidge was, of course, stronger.  He picked up his bag, gave one last wave to their friends, and climbed into the green lion.

It was only a couple of minutes before they were through the wormhole and into the Runmayr system.  Pidge confirmed their pickup with Allura one last time, and then the wormhole closed and Pidge leaned back in the pilot’s seat with a sigh of relief.  She pulled her helmet off, and glanced over her shoulder at Hunk before she put her glasses back on. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.”

She tapped her display, and the lion’s autopilot plotted the course to the planet -- it would take them about forty minutes to arrive, since they had opened the wormhole far enough out to give the planet some space.

They were really alone together now -- which Hunk had been looking forward to, but suddenly found to be not what he’d expected.  The cockpit of the green lion was quiet except for its usual mechanical whirring and soft beeps, and maybe it was because Lance had out of the blue reminded Hunk of his carefully-ignored crush that the silence with Pidge suddenly felt awkward, when it never had before.  His helmet was on his lap, and he folded his fingers together on top of it, squeezing it between his palms in an effort to do something.

Pidge sat forward and ran her fingers through her hair, ruffling it.  “The quiet sure is nice.”

The quiet was quickly becoming unbearable.  “Yeah.”

She turned sideways in her seat and wrapped her arms around her leg.  “This came at a great time,” she said. “I was just starting to get sick of everybody on the castle.  Needed some alone time.”

“You won’t really be alone,” Hunk pointed out.  “We’re all scheduled up. Plus you’ll be rooming with me.”

She shrugged one shoulder and glanced away with a little smile.  “I mean, you don’t really count. Being with you is as good as being alone, so that’s not an issue.”

His heart leapt right up into his throat. _Say something, say something…!_  “I, um.  Thanks?”

She let out a tiny, awkward laugh.  “You’re welcome, I guess? I didn’t really think that was a compliment, it’s just … yeah.”

Hunk’s face got hot immediately.  “I mean … I don’t know, I didn’t know what to say.”  He huffed out a sigh, trying to center himself. “I … I’m looking forward to getting to spend this time with you.  I’ve had almost enough of the whole Castle dynamic, too.”

Pidge looked at him with a shy smile.  “I know we’re working, but this is totally a vacation.”

“It totally is.  And the work we’ll be doing is the kind we like anyway.  I don’t think these guys will have us cleaning anything or working strategy.”

“God, I hope not.  I think the diplomacy will be all right, but that’s all I really want to deal with that isn’t a computer or a pile of parts.”

“I can take point on the diplomatic stuff.”

She tipped her head back against her seat, still watching him.  “Okay, good. You’re way better at it than me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He was about to regret saying that, but then she grinned.  “See, this is what I mean! You get me.”

Hunk didn’t try to resist beaming back at her.  “I know.”

 

As they approached the planet they moved from its night side to the day, and got a decent look at it.  It was mostly water, kind of like looking at Earth from over the Pacific ocean, only they knew there weren’t any larger continents hiding around the corner.  The biggest equatorial continent was their destination, and from out here it looked about the size of India, though they knew the planet was smaller than earth so the landmasses weren’t as big as they looked.  It was mostly green with some shades of brown in the higher elevations, and Hunk remembered enough geology from high school to know that it was absolutely a young volcanic island, like the big island of Hawaii, except much larger.  From space he couldn’t spot any fresh black lava flows, and wondered if maybe the hot spot had moved on but not created new land yet.

To the east of the largest continent was an archipelago, dozens of islands of a variety of sizes that spread out across the ocean and reached all the way around into night.  Capping off the north end of the planet was a big landmass, almost the size of Asia, but according to their intel it was almost entirely uninhabited due to its arctic climate.

When they arrived at the planet, Pidge took manual control of her lion and set it down near the capital city of Telav, on an offshore base that had been built by the Galra and strongly resembled an aircraft carrier.  The locals had clearly taken it over pretty thoroughly after they’d driven off the invaders, though, and although it had all the same bones as every Galra base they’d ever been on there was something distinctly island-y about it that made Hunk feel instantly at home.

Their hosts approached the lion as soon as Pidge had set it down, and they collected their bags before they made their way down.  The Basherim were roughly human-looking -- more so than a lot of the aliens they’d encountered, but with a couple of differences that stopped Hunk from getting too comfortable.  To begin with, they were tall; Hunk was used to being the tallest person in the room back home, but every one of the six Basherim who greeted them was his height or taller, some by an entire head.  They had medium brown skin with only a little variety in the shade, and sleek black hair that most of them wore long, but two had braided styles. It had sort of an oily sheen to it in the sunlight, though it didn’t move like it was greasy, which made it look not-quite-right from a human perspective.  Their faces had something uncanny going on too, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. Maybe their eyes were a little too big, their chins too long or cheekbones too prominent. They looked a little bit like they’d been designed by a sketch artist who had been given a description of a human but hadn’t actually ever seen one.

As they stepped out onto the tarmac, Hunk felt over-dressed.  The air was delightfully warm and humid, but he and Pidge were in their full paladin armor, except for their helmets.  His hair fluttered around his head in the gentle breeze, and he longed to feel it on the rest of his skin.

“Hello!” Pidge called, raising a hand in greeting as the party of Basherim met them.

“Hello, paladins of Voltron!”  One of the shorter ones stepped forward, the one with a crown of thick braids encircling her head.  “Good beginning on Runmayr. My name is Rayshee, and I will be your liaison.”

“I’m Pidge, the paladin of the green lion.  My partner is Hunk, he’s the paladin of the yellow lion.”

Rayshee turned her smile to him, and it was feeling less alien already.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hunk said, extending his hand to shake.

Rayshee’s smile faltered, and she blinked her big eyes at his extended hand -- at which point he realized he couldn’t remember if Coran had covered this in their briefing.   _So much for taking point on diplomacy.  Come on, make it work!_

“Sorry!” he said quickly.  “I don’t know if your people shake hands, but for humans it’s a common greeting.”

Rayshee’s smile returned easily, and she held out her hand.  Hunk grasped it gently -- don’t want to make too strong of an impression -- and gave it a gentle shake before he released it.

“Already we are learning!” Rayshee said, glancing over her shoulder at her companions, who had been watching closely.  “We are so gratified that you have taken the walk to enjoy our hospitality during the festival.”

That must be one of those idioms they’d heard about -- luckily it was an easy one to parse, even though the algorithm translated it word-for-word.  Hunk finally let himself relax, and a glance at Pidge told him that she was at ease again too.

“We’re glad we could make it, too,” Pidge said.  “We’ve been looking forward to this trip for a while.”

Rayshee got a slightly uncertain look on her face for a second, before it switched to understanding.  “Ah, I hear. Apologies, the translator was slow.”

Hunk tried to smile, but he was afraid it came off awkward.  “We understand.” The translator was slow? That would be something to watch out for….

Rayshee introduced them to the other Basherim who had come to greet them: the prime minister and vice minister of the island, which was the largest inhabited one on the planet; the mayor of the Telav, which was the capital and visible across the water; and two scientists from their major university who were in the newly-formed alien studies department.   _Scientist_ didn’t seem to Hunk to be the best term … maybe xenoanthropologist?  He tried to remember to say something to Pidge later, she liked a good unwieldy compound word.  And if he dropped it randomly in conversation, he could probably get a good laugh out of her.

It seemed a little weird for his attention to be so focused on Pidge while they were here on an alien world, but there it was.  Rayshee and the mayor helped Hunk and Pidge get their bags into what was definitely a fancy speedboat, and they set off across the water.

Pidge seemed surprised by the boat ride, even a little tense as they sped through the spray, the bright sunlight throwing rainbows everywhere they looked.  “You okay?” he asked, over the noise of the motor.

She nodded, and looked at him with a smile that was definitely forced as her hair whipped around her head.  “Not used to boats, is all. Not powered ones, anyway.”

The boat hit a wave and jostled them, and Pidge grimaced, reaching for Hunk in a way that seemed automatic.  He took her hand, and she held it tightly. “We’re really booking.”

She nodded, biting her lips and looking around anxiously for a minute before she looked back at him.  “I’m kind of surprised you’re okay.”

Which was when it occurred to Hunk to be surprised too -- he’d always hated boats, they were even worse than aircraft.  But he hadn’t been on one since he’d left home before he enrolled in the Galaxy Garrison, and that was years ago, and so much had happened in the meantime.  He held Pidge’s hand and shrugged. “There’s something to the whole Voltron thing, I guess.”

Her smile softened, and she pushed her hair back off her face.  “Guess so.”

 

Once the boat docked in the marina on the mainland, Hunk helped Pidge out of the boat, and then they parted ways with the mayor and Rayshee bundled them into a vehicle that was pretty much a motorbike rickshaw -- it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a hundred cities on Earth, and it was clear this was a popular mode of transportation here.  There were a lot of these on the road with fabric canopies, and a lot without, and quite a few bicycle-powered ones too. There were some vehicles that approximately resembled cars, but few of them were closed in. Everyone on the roads was enjoying the air and the sunshine, and Hunk was eager to get into depth on all of this because there were no fumes of anything and the noise was much less than he was used to at home.

Rayshee was pointing things out to them as they drove, but Hunk was too overwhelmed by the entire experience of it to hear much of what she was saying.  There were a lot of people, and everything was so colorful, so tropical and full of life. Most of the buildings had plants hanging off their open windows, even the ones that were like ten stories tall.

He happened to glance at Pidge; she was leaning forward, staring in open-mouthed wonder at the whole thing.  This made them more visible to the Basherim, and when Hunk started paying attention he noticed that a lot of people were stopping when they saw them, murmuring to one another, a few even pointing.  He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were obviously a spectacle -- non-Galra offworlders, rolling through the city on a motor rickshaw like it was just another Tuesday.

Rayshee pulled to a stop in front of a tall building that was maybe fifty meters from the beach, and looked exactly like high-rise condos back on Earth.  Hunk thought about helping Pidge out of the rickshaw, but she had jumped down before he could actually do anything and was studying the building, craning her neck upwards.  He looked more closely as they approached -- the exterior was a sort of warm gold that looked like stucco, and the entire thing was covered in balconies. He estimated it was about twenty stories high, but didn’t have time to count before they were both scampering after Rayshee into the airy lobby.

They took the elevator up to what seemed like a pretty high floor, though they couldn’t read the labels on the buttons; Pidge snapped a photo of Rayshee pointing to the right one so they could do it again on their own.  And then they turned left, and their unit was the second to last one on the right. Rayshee handed them both little devices that were almost definitely RFID key fobs -- or whatever the Basherlik equivalent was -- and they beeped into their apartment.

Pidge plowed right in when the door opened, but Hunk stayed just inside the door for a minute, taking in the whole thing along with the sight of his friend throwing her entire self into exploring the place.  It didn’t quite feel like being on Earth, but it was close enough to be uncanny, like the Basherim themselves. The ceilings were high -- Pidge looked tiny -- and floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire exterior wall facing the ocean, except for the part that was simply open to their lanai.  The top two-thirds of all the windows were wide open, and everything had that very specific salt air smell that Hunk suddenly realized he had missed so badly he could barely stand it.

“I apologize for the size of the unit,” Rayshee said, startling him.

“Oh!  I mean, it’s fine.  It’s great, really. Much larger than our bunks on the ship, it’s nice to have so much space.”

“It’s huge!” Pidge said, coming back from the far bedroom.  “This one is mine.”

Rayshee had looked vaguely tense, but seemed to relax at Pidge’s obvious pleasure with her bedroom.  “It gratifies me greatly that it is suitable to you. Will you like a time to rest before we begin preparing for the evening?”

Hunk looked at Pidge, who gave him a little nod.  “Yeah, thanks. It’ll be nice to settle in for a bit.”

Rayshee nodded.  “Good. I expect that you can devise the function of most things here, it will be very troublesome to break anything so have no worry.  Some fruit and other food has been placed in the kitchen for your convenience, if you are hungry.” Then she took out what Hunk was pretty certain was a smartphone, and tapped on it for a moment.  “In one שטונדנ I will come back and we will prepare for this evening’s reception, is that enough time for you to settle in?”

Hunk was about to ask what a שטונדנ was, since the translator gave up on that word completely, but then she showed him the phone and it told him that whatever time interval she’d just said was equal to an hour and twenty-five minutes.  “Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Very good.  Enjoy your time, and I am leaving your keys here.”  She set them on the counter in what seemed like the kitchenette.  “I have one also, but you may come and go as you like. I will return soon.”

Hunk and Pidge both said goodbye, and as soon as Rayshee had left Hunk was suddenly ready to claw off his armor.  “Can you _believe_ this place?” he said to Pidge, heading into the bedroom she had left for him, but he stopped short when he stepped in.  “Oh man, does your bedroom open onto the lanai too?”

She poked her head in from the outside.  “The what?”

“Our balcony.  Lanai is the Hawaiian word for it.”

“Oh!  Yeah, come outside, it’s the whole length of the unit.”

He stepped outside and set his hands on the railing, and closed his eyes for a moment as he let the breeze and the aroma of the ocean wash over him.   _It was almost like being home again_.  Emotion welled up inside him, and he felt like he might cry from relief.

Pidge bumped her shoulder into his arm.  “Pretty neat, huh?”

“It’s literally paradise.”  He blinked down at her, and she grinned.

“I’m gonna change out of my uniform, it’s way too nice here for this.  Do you think I should get into my dress for tonight right away?”

“Might as well, that’s what I’m doing.  But not a dress.”

Pidge laughed, and turned into her room.  “I don’t know, it looked like a lot of people here were wearing dresses.”

She was right, of course; the Basherim seemed to favor loose-fitting clothing, for obvious reasons.  “Maybe later I’ll wear what the locals have, but for tonight at least we’re aliens, shouldn’t we look the part?”

“I suppose.”  She popped open the chest piece on her armor, and he turned away, embarrassed for some reason even though he’d seen her in just the leotard a million times.  Time for him to get changed too, though maybe a shower was in order first. Hopefully Rayshee was right about the mechanism being intuitive….

 

By the time their שטונדנ was up, the sun was beginning to seem low and the sky out over the ocean was hinting at purple on the horizon as twilight approached.  Hunk and Pidge had managed to get the shower working, and they hadn’t figured out the temperature controls so it had been tepid, but it was definitely good enough to rinse off and feel fresh before they got dressed up for the evening’s banquet.

Hunk wished he’d had access to his own clothes, rather than having to resort to Coran helping him find something.  It was really very Altean, when he knew he’d be most comfortable in that one particular aloha shirt that he’d worn on almost every non-uniform day in high school.  But he’d managed to find something in the same colors, yellow and orange in a kind of watercolor-y floral-ish print, and it was nice that the Altean fabric clung to his shoulders and biceps in a flattering way.  He’d finished the outfit with long trousers, since he wasn’t sure what the Basherim thought of shorts and he figured he’d make his mother proud, when she eventually saw photos of this. After Pidge worked out the file conversion so they could actually take the photos with them, anyway.

Pidge looked beautiful.  Allura had found her a little cap-sleeve dress with a fluttery skirt that hit her about at the knee, and it was colorblocked in green and white.  She’d also dampened her hair and put something fragrant in it, and then spent a while idly futzing with it while she looked at something on her laptop.  It had turned out voluminous and wavy all over, and curly at the ends now that it was dry, which was almost definitely witchcraft -- he’d never realized her hair was actually curly, she usually just wore it in a big golden-brown puff, and occasionally in smaller golden-brown pigtail puffs now that it was a bit longer than it had been for a while.

But _sweet fancy Moses_ was he in love with this look on her.  She was elegant, but she was so obviously still his Pidge, she looked so comfortable and happy, and she checked herself in the mirror by the door several times before Rayshee arrived, looking delighted every time as she twisted her curls.

He wanted to say something, but every time he thought he had worked up the courage, the words stuck in his throat.  He wanted to say _something_ , but the _what_ simply wasn’t happening.  He had to settle for beaming at her when she happened to catch him looking -- and then she turned away with a big shy smile of her own, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear that didn’t stay put.

The mood broke when Rayshee arrived to collect them again, dispelling the _something_ in the air between them.  Their host had changed clothes as well, from the simple outfit she’d worn before to something more colorful.

“Looks like we chose right,” Hunk said as they followed her back down to the rickshaw.

She seemed confused.  “How?”

Was the translator having trouble?  Maybe he was just being unclear. “Our clothes,” he said, trying to gesture to himself.  “We picked out colorful things to wear, and you’re wearing something similar.”

“Oh, of course!  Yes, you both look beautiful.  You are בשרלך for the banquet.”

Pidge caught Hunk’s gaze, eyes wide in a sort of _say what?_ expression.  He shrugged, but offered his hand to help her up into their vehicle as Rayshee settled in the driver seat again.  Pidge scooted across, so Hunk climbed right up after her rather than going around.

The motor came to life, and as they set off Pidge pressed her hands on her knees, holding her skirt down as it tried to flutter away in the wind.  “Starting to get nervous,” she murmured.

Hunk was too.  “About the banquet?”

“Yeah.  About diplomacy.  It’s hitting me now how big of a mission this is, like, this is practically first contact.  And we’re expected to handle it on our own?”

He leaned into her, just a little; maybe his touch would help her calm down a bit.  “It’s going to be fine. I’m taking point on diplomacy, right?”

She glanced up with an uncertain smile.  “I know, I just feel uneasy without Allura here.  No offense.”

“I feel you on that, man.  But she thinks we’re up for it.”

“I guess.”

“Just stick by me.  We have each other’s backs.”  He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand.  “I think it’s going to be a lot less scary than we’re anticipating.”

She leaned into him a little more firmly.  “I guess if you’re not that nervous it’s probably fine.”

He hoped she was right.  His heart was trying to thunder right out of his chest, but there were a couple of things that could be causing that.  He just had to focus on their mission for a bit, and it would all be fine. That part, at least, he knew he was pretty good at.

 

It was a longer ride to the university than it had been from the marina to their apartment, but the route was more scenic, mostly along the oceanfront, where they could see tents being set up.  They couldn’t ask Rayshee about it now, but Hunk presumed it was for the Aphelion festival, the new year celebration on Runmayr that certainly seemed to be meeting their intel’s expectations of being a big deal here.  There were people everywhere, some of them setting up, and some just walking around, or eating street food that was already sizzling even though the festival hadn’t quite begun. Hunk hoped they would get some opportunity to experience all of this in between the work they had scheduled.

The reception at the university was being held in a large open-air hall which was hung liberally with strings of lights and absolutely dripping with greenery and bright turmeric-yellow flowers, and set up with round tables in the center of the space and long rectangular ones around the periphery.  It was pretty full of people already, and Rayshee explained to them that the guests represented a diverse group of important people, from political figures to scientific leaders, and many people who didn’t hold any special position regarding interstellar relations, but were interested and just wanted to be there, and had managed to score a spot through a sort of lottery.  Certain parts of the event were also going to be recorded and made available on what the translator called the every-link, which seemed from context to be their version of the internet.

As soon as Rayshee ushered them into the hall, the introductions started.  Everyone seemed to find out in a matter of moments that their guests of honor had arrived, and it took them a good few minutes to get up to the table at the head of the room, right next to a podium and what had to be some kind of screen, since the first thing they were going to do was give a presentation.

And before too long, the time came.  The room quieted when the mayor took the podium and announced them, and then there was a wild susurrus of all of the attendees shaking their clothing and jewelry -- apparently they didn’t clap?  It was quite pleasant, actually.

Pidge looked at Hunk, eyes wide and clearly nervous, but she stood up when he did and stayed close by his side as he took over for the mayor at the podium.

“Hello,” he said into the mic, and the delay and feedback was exactly like every time he’d spoken publicly in high school.  “My name is Hunk, and my partner here is Pidge.” He gestured at her, and she raised one hand, waving her fingers awkwardly.  “We’re the yellow and green Paladins of Voltron, and we form the left arm and leg. We’ve got, um, a little bit of a presentation.  About what Voltron is all about, and the coalition, and why we’re eager to have Runmayr and the Basherim joining us in our fight against the Galra.”

He was suddenly nervous that he’d pronounced the names of the planet and the people wrong -- he hadn’t had much practice, and somehow he felt like Pidge was way better at saying it than he was -- but the mayor gave him an encouraging nod, and brought up the first of the images on the display so everyone could see.

Hunk wished he had notecards.  He’d practiced this, of course, with Allura back on the castle.  He knew it upside down, but all of the eyes on him and Pidge made it different and he wished he’d anticipated that a little.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pidge shift, just a half step closer to him.  He wished he could reach out and touch her, just to get some reassurance from her presence, and then she shifted even closer, just enough for the hem of her dress to brush his leg.

It was enough.  He took a breath, and began.

 

The presentation went by in a blur, just like high school, and then there was an extended question session.  But when they got done, Pidge was beaming at him, and Rayshee and the mayor looked quite pleased, and they got another vigorous round of rustling as they took their seats again.  Pidge seemed to be about to say something to him, but then one of the Basherim approached them and introduced herself as the prime minister of the other major island on the planet -- the name went by too fast for Hunk to catch, but Pidge managed to repeat it and she picked up the conversation.  He enjoyed the break, knowing it would be brief, and finally allowed himself to look at the rectangular tables around the perimeter of the room, which were being set up with shiny metal contraptions that were almost definitely chafing dishes. Every culture they’d encountered so far seemed to have similar banquet technology, at least as far as function was concerned.  It definitely made for diplomatic meetings that had at least one familiar element, even if the food itself was anything but. Luckily this one also had glasses of ice water set on the tables, and they didn’t seem to do anything fancy to it, it was just really good, cold water.

Pidge and the prime minister finished their talk without Hunk ever catching the thread of it, but then Rayshee leaned over and let them know that dinner was served, and they could get up and avail themselves of the offerings.  Pidge was on her feet in a moment, glass in hand, and she fidgeted as Hunk pushed his chair back to join her. She held onto his arm as they descended the couple of steps to the floor -- these were bigger steps than they were used to, and Pidge was much smaller than the Basherim -- and she stuck close once they made it, seeming almost to be shying away from the veritable forest of tall aliens.

They circled the room side by side while Hunk took stock of the different food options available, pausing occasionally to converse with someone before resuming their culinary circumnavigation.  It all looked intriguing, some of it very alien while some of it was rather familiar -- and then he spotted the one that was _very_ familiar.

“Pidge!” he gasped, turning to her and pointing.  “Nachos!”

She laughed, and bumped herself into his side playfully, setting her hand on his bicep.  “I know! I saw it five minutes ago, I was wondering when you’d notice.”

He took her hand without thinking too much about it, and she trailed behind him to the nachos, still giggling.  He loaded up a plate, and _god_ they smelled exactly like fried corn tortillas and slightly-spicy queso sauce.  Pidge was grinning as she watched him, now fiddling with her glass with both hands, dragging her fingertips through the condensation.

 _She was so pretty tonight_.

He wondered for half a second if he would even be considering this under different circumstances -- but he made the snap decision to go for it rather than thinking about why this seemed like the thing to do.  He lifted a chip out of the pile and offered it to her.

It took her a moment.  But she got it, and blinked at him, questioning.  He bit his lip and nodded, and she leaned forward and ate it out of his fingers.  It was a big chip, really loaded with cheese, and she got some on the side of her mouth, which she wiped away as she chewed, eyes closed and a big smile on her lips.

“Good?”  He could barely speak.  This was possibly the most intimate thing he’d ever done.

She opened her eyes.  “It tastes like home. You need to have one.”

He picked one up and ate it, and _yes_!  She was right, it did taste exactly like home.  “How the hell did we find the nacho planet after all?”

She tipped her head back and laughed.  “I don’t know, man.”

“Lance is gonna be insanely jealous.”  Hunk ate another one, and really savored it this time.  He didn’t know how many years it had been since he’d last had nachos, and he had apparently forgotten how amazing they were.  It might actually be a struggle to try all the other foods on offer here tonight, when he was very tempted to simply eat nachos until they were coming out of his ears.

Pidge took a chip from his plate, and between them it was empty in only a minute.  Pidge eyed the table. “Should we have more right away, or come back?”

It was extraordinarily tempting to have more right away.  “I think in the interest of diplomacy, we should come back.”

She looked a bit disappointed, but she nodded.  “Yeah, okay.”

The next thing they found was kind of like shredded chicken, but with an unfamiliar flavor profile to it, and then there were heaps of exotic-looking vegetables that all had different aromas and flavors.  Hunk loaded a plate for himself, and carried one for Pidge since she insisted that she couldn’t with her glass in her hands.

Eventually they made it back to their spot at the head table, and had a few minutes of quiet to just enjoy their food while they watched the crowd.  The sun had moved in the hour or so since they’d arrived, and it was really getting to evening now, throwing long shadows across the entire space.

“This is really something,” Pidge murmured, nibbling on a roasted purple root vegetable as she leaned one elbow on the table.  “I feel like we’re being treated like VIPs, which is sort of par for the course at coalition events, but everybody’s super casual about it, you know?”

“They are.  It’s almost weird, but at the same time, it’s nice to relax a little.  I feel like I don’t have to be as _on_ as I normally do for stuff like this.”

“Definitely.”

She shifted in her chair, and the shadow on her face was suddenly gone, and the setting sun set her hair aflame with gold and red.  She closed her eyes against it for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and the amber in her eyes sparkled. It took his breath away in a way he’d always thought was only metaphorical, but here he was, barely able to breathe as his beautiful companion smiled at him.

Her expression changed slightly, faltering.  “You okay?”

“Great!  I’m … great.”  He picked up his glass and took a sip, trying to pull himself together.  “It’s just.…” He suddenly remembered what Lance had said this morning, his exhortation to _really talk_ to Pidge.  “The light is really great right now.  The golden hour, or whatever.”

It wasn’t exactly what he had meant to say, but she smiled again, and leaned back in her chair.  “You do look a little bit like you’re in a movie.”

“So do you.”

She laughed, and picked up another purple thing from her plate.  “Not a bad way to start our mission, is it?”

Hunk would have been hard-pressed to think of the last time he was this happy; he didn’t even try.  He leaned back, summoned his bravery, and set his arm over the back of Pidge’s chair, right around the middle of her back.  She shifted just a smidge, turning slightly towards him, and threw him another little smile.

Hunk’s heart soared.  “Not bad at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hunk woke to the sound of rainfall and the smell of wet earth.  His room wasn’t bright yet, only dimly illuminated from outside, and the wet air was cool enough that he pulled the blanket up from where he’d tossed it on the floor in the night.  He went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, the sun was bright and there was no sign of the previous rain.  He could hear that Pidge was already awake and puttering around in their little kitchenette, clearly trying to remember how to work the device that was an awful lot like a coffee maker.  He almost wondered if she hadn’t slept, but the door to her bedroom was open and when he peeked in the sheets on her bed were impressively rumpled.

He went to the bathroom first, washed his face and brushed his teeth and felt a little more awake by the time he padded out to the main living area.  “Good morning.”

Pidge turned, smiled at him for a moment before she went back to the machine.  “Good morning. Do you remember how this works?”

“I think so.”  He joined her, and between them they had it brewing in a couple of minutes.  The smell was absolutely phenomenal, exactly like coffee, to the point that it was almost difficult to remember they weren’t on Earth.

While Pidge stood and watched the carafe slowly fill, Hunk went through the fridge in search of breakfast.  There were quite a few fruits that he recognized from last night, so he got out a couple of those, as well as something else that he wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked and smelled kind of starchy, sort of like rice pudding, but with a vaguely yogurty tang.  Probably fermented, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Do you think they have cream?” Pidge said.

“Huh.  Maybe.”  He went back to the fridge, and located a smallish carton of something with a picture of coffee beans on it.  He opened it and peered in -- the liquid was opaque and milky, kind of brownish, but it smelled almost like coconut and vanilla.  “What do you think of this?”

She inspected the outside of the carton, and then smelled it.  “Seems likely.”

She found mugs while Hunk sliced up the fruit, and when the coffee was ready they took their dishes out to the low chairs on the lanai and ate quietly while they watched the beach below them, which was lined with brightly-colored tents and was slowly but surely filling up with people.  The coffee tasted just how he remembered it at home, and Pidge loved it enough that she finished her first cup almost immediately and went back for a refill. The fruit was good too, and he wasn’t totally sure that the rice pudding thing was a breakfast food, but it was passable and filled them up.  The fermented smell didn’t really come through in the flavor, which was nice.

After a bit there was a jingle of chimes from inside the apartment, and it took them a minute to realize it was the doorbell.  Hunk got up and let Rayshee in, who was carrying a small basket of fruit and looked delighted to see him.

“Good morning!  I am gratified that you are both already awake.”

“Yup.  We figured out breakfast, too.”

“This coffee is amazing!” Pidge called, from her seat outside, raising her mug.

Rayshee grinned.  “We did not expect the קאווע to please you, it is a foreign flavor even to some Basherim.”

Hunk figured that meant it was an acquired taste, which was definitely true.  “We have something exactly like it at home. This is the first time we’ve had it since we came into space and it’s wonderful.”

“I see that you discovered the fruit also,” Rayshee said, gesturing with her chin to the plate that was beside Pidge out on the lanai.  “Is that also suitable?”

“It’s great,” Hunk said.  “Thanks for bringing more.”

“Oh, yes.”  She handed him the basket.  “It has the best flavor when cold.”

“Sounds good.”  He stowed it in the fridge.  “So what time do we leave to go to the laboratory?”

“Whenever it pleases you,” Rayshee said.  “Our engineers are attending a festival beside the laboratory and can be ready for work whenever you arrive.”

“I can be ready pretty soon,” Pidge said, folding her legs up in the chair as she cradled the coffee cup in her hands.  She looked so comfortable, Hunk almost wished they could just hang out here all day. “I want to shower first, but I’m eager to get to work.”

Rayshee looked at Hunk.  “And you?”

“I want to finish breakfast,” he said.  “And shower, too. So, maybe an hour?”

Pidge nodded.  “Works for me.”

Hunk pulled out his phone and did the time conversion, then showed it to Rayshee, who nodded.  “This is good. I will come back then to escort you.”

She let herself out, and Hunk refilled his coffee before he went back out onto the porch.

“So tell me about this fruit,” Pidge said, poking at it.  “What’s good?”

“It’s all good,” Hunk said, and pushed a piece towards her that was red and juicy.  “Try this one first.”

She popped it in her mouth, and he watched her face while she chewed, and he tried not to think too much about her lips.  Finally she swallowed and nodded. “That is a good one. How’s this?” She picked up a piece that had firm white flesh, with tiny black seeds studded through it.

“Not my favorite,” Hunk said.  “Doesn’t taste like much.”

Pidge ate it, and shrugged.  “I dunno, I kinda like it. Makes my mouth feel weird though.”

He blinked at her, suddenly suspicious.  “It makes your mouth feel weird? It didn’t do that to me.”

“Yeah, my gums and throat are getting kind of ... sensitive.”  Realization hit her at the same moment it hit Hunk. “Oh shit, am I _allergic_ to it?”

“Shit, this is _really_ not good.”

“I mean, I don’t have any other food allergies,” Pidge said quickly.  “I don’t think I’m going to _die_ or anything, it’s probably just a little thing.”

“I am _so_ not going to take that risk,” Hunk said, climbing to his feet.

“No, wait, _please_ ,” Pidge said, reaching up and grabbing the hem of his shirt.  “I don’t want this to be a thing, not unless it has to be. And it’s not getting worse.  I mean, in the last ten seconds.”

He wanted to pull away, to run after Rayshee and try to get medical attention for Pidge.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded.  “It doesn’t feel that bad.  Just give it like ten minutes, okay?”  She coughed a little, involuntarily, and seemed distressed for a second.  “If by then I’m doing worse, then we can call her back, but I really don’t think I’ll need anything.”

Hunk was really not on board with this, but Pidge _looked_ okay….  “Okay. Ten minutes.”

She sighed and let go of his clothing.  “Thanks. I have allergic reactions to stuff all the time, it’s usually fine.  Just never food before.”

Hunk sat back down and picked up his coffee.  “Yeah, I guess this is something you know a little bit about.”

“A little,” she agreed.

Hunk looked at the plate.  There were still several pieces of the one that didn’t agree with Pidge, so he picked them out and ate them.  His only impression was still that they were bland, so whatever her reaction was seemed to be particular to her and not common of humans.

Pidge picked up another of the red one, and he let her finish them.  He hoped that she would let him know if she wasn’t all right; he could trust her with that, right?  She wouldn’t hide it if something was really wrong.

They ate quietly for a little while longer, finishing the fruit, and then their coffee.  But then Pidge started seeming uncomfortable, and he could hear her stomach gurgling. After the third loud one in fairly quick succession, he decided that continuing to ignore it would be more awkward than acknowledging it.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, shifting her weight in the chair, but she didn’t sound convinced.  “Just gassy.” Her digestion gurgled again, and she stood up, somewhat stiffly. “I’m finished, anyway.  I’m going to go hop in the shower, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.  I’ll get this put away.”

“Cool, thanks.”  She headed back into the flat, and he tried not to notice how quickly she headed into the bathroom.

He could hardly _not_ pay attention, though, as much as he wanted to try to give her a little privacy.  He was concerned about her, and even if he wasn’t he always found himself attuned to her, she always commanded his attention.  The shower started while he was watching the beachgoers below, and after a few minutes he heard the bathroom door open, and then close again a few moments later.

After that he couldn’t really distinguish anything, and he sat back, trying to relax in the chair that was a bit too large.  He found himself thinking of Pidge again, how the furniture here practically swallowed her up. The Basherim didn’t _seem_ all that much larger than humans, just tall, but many of them were on the willowy side.  Hunk supposed that gave the illusion of them being roughly human-sized, when their furniture made it clear that that wasn’t exactly the case.

He leaned over to look when he heard the bathroom door open several minutes later, and saw her emerge in shorts and a tank top, her hair dripping wet.  “Hey, all done?” he called.

“Yup.”  She came over to the kitchenette and poured the last of the coffee into her mug.  “All yours.”

“You doing okay still?  With the fruit, I mean.”

She nodded, and kind of hid her face behind the cup and avoided his gaze.  “Yeah I’m good. I won’t eat it again, but I’m fine now.”

He got up and went inside, intending to go have his own shower, but he was distracted when his eyes adjusted to the shade and he got a look at her skin.  “Woah, what’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“Your shoulders are all red.  And like, blotchy.” She looked swollen, or sunburned; it was all over her shoulders and chest, fading as it went down her upper arms and up her neck, though some of it crept up over her jaw onto her cheek.  Understanding hit him all at once, and the flood of emotions that followed were too tumultuous to possibly identify. “Holy shit, Pidge, you’ve got hives! You’re still reacting to the fruit!”

“It’s nothing,” she protested, touching the spot where it was on her cheek and shying away from him.

“Like shit it’s nothing!”  He was panicking, he was panicking and he was _angry_ all of a sudden and Pidge had the gall to say it was _nothing_?  “Damn it, Pidge!  I _knew_ we should’ve gone after Rashee and gotten you medical attention, we have to--”

“It’s nothing!” she said, louder now, backing up and facing him, and setting the mug firmly on the counter.  “You don’t know me, okay? You don’t know my body or how it goes all to fuck over stupid shit.”

“I don’t have to know the details of your immune system to know that you need medical attention for this.”

“I fucking don’t!”  She threw her arms in the air.  “Like, could you _not_ for a minute and just trust me?”

“How can I trust you on this when _neither_ of us knows anything?”

“ _Please_ ,” she begged, and the distress in her voice cut through him like a razor, made him wish he could have just controlled himself a little.  “ _God,_ Hunk, I don’t want to fight with you.  Not when we’ve only just gotten here.” She took a shuddering breath.  “Just, like … I know you’re right, okay? But don’t tell me what to _do._ ”

“Pidge, _god_ ….”  He raked his hand through his hair and tried to breathe through the maelstrom of feelings.  “I just … you can’t expect me to not say anything when I think you’re in danger. I _care_ about you and I can’t stand seeing you hurt like this when it was totally preventable.”

Pidge looked taken aback, almost shocked, and a little bit like she might cry.  “I … I didn’t--”

He took a deep breath, and then another, trying desperately to calm himself.  Shit, _shit_ , he was so close to showing his hand and he couldn’t do this here, not now, not when they had so much work still to do.  He couldn’t go exposing his heart on a whim. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just … we should go do our thing. They’re expecting us.”

She stepped close, _so close,_ right into his personal space and it was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her shoulders and hold her tight, to reassure himself that she was still here, that her allergic reaction really was minor and she was okay.  But he held back, and she just stood there, both of them breathing shallowly and not quite looking at each other.

After a minute Pidge pressed her lips together.  “I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, and it sounded like it took some effort.  “I knew you were right, I just … I didn’t want to create a fuss, like, _immediately._  My body is kind of messed up and it does weird things, I’m kind of used to it, even when it’s not really okay.”

“Are you okay, though?”

She tipped her head from side to side, a frustrating sort of I-don’t-know.  “I’m itchy. But only on my arms and shoulders, not in my throat or anything.”

The redness of her skin was still alarming, but Hunk tried to take her word that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.  “I still don’t like it.”

“I know.”

He bit his lip; he wanted to say more, he wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to take care of her, but she wouldn’t like that, she wouldn’t accept it.  She needed to be the one to take care of herself, and he would have to be satisfied with the help of his that she accepted.

They spiraled around each other as they got ready to head out for their day of work.  Rayshee came back exactly on time to collect them -- it struck him as a little strange that they could be very _whatever_ about when they wanted to leave, but she still stuck exactly to the plan they made -- and after another minute of collecting their things they were ready.

“Um, Rayshee,” Hunk said quickly, “before we go, I have a question.”

She turned from the door and raised her eyebrows.  “Yes?”

“This fruit.”  He picked up the one that was on the counter, and saw a scowl flash across Pidge’s as she picked up on what he was doing.  “What’s it called?”

“This is a ערדבאר,” she said.  “Did you like it?”

Pidge tried to mimic the word, rolling it around in her mouth, and Hunk tried to control the nervousness in his chest.  “Yeah, I like it, but it turns out that Pidge is allergic to it.”

Rayshee got that look she got when the translator wasn’t working.  “Can you explain?”

Hunk looked at Pidge, who grimaced.  “I … when I ate it, my body had a reaction that … it was unpleasant.  And then I got this rash.” She gestured at her chest and shoulders, and Rayshee seemed to notice the hives for the first time.

“Terrible misfortune!”  But she seemed less distraught than Hunk would have expected.  “You had an adverse reaction?”

“Yeah,” Pidge said.  “An allergic reaction.  It’s an autoimmune thing.  Histamine.”

Rayshee nodded and gave Pidge a gentle smile.  “Good that our translator understands this word now.  Do not be concerned, this was a problem with the Galra, they also had a histamine reaction to the ערדבאר.  Your washroom is stocked with a potion, I will measure you a dose.”

Rayshee went into the bathroom, and Pidge let out a breathy little laugh.  “Of course the translator would be fine with _histamine_ but not _allergy._  And _potion_?”

“I’m just glad they were prepared for this,” Hunk said.  “It would have been nice to know the stuff was already here, then you wouldn’t have had to be uncomfortable.”

She shrugged one shoulder.  “Maybe I’ll listen to you next time.”

Rayshee came back with a pill in one hand and a tube in the other, and gave Pidge the pill.  “Swallow this. It will take a little time to work, but the symptoms will subside shortly. Then if you like, this cream will reduce the pain of the rash, but it will make you sensitive to the sun.”

Pidge swallowed the pill, and Hunk drew her a drink of water from the tap.  “Great, thanks. And I’m sensitive to the sun anyway, so I’m fine with the cream.”

Rayshee offered the tube to Hunk.  “Perhaps you can help her with applying this to her back.  Apply enough to cover the area, and then you should clean your hands.”

Pidge turned, and looked at him with wide eyes -- this was pretty intimate, but then again, who was going to do it?  And the swelling on her back looked uncomfortable, he was sure she wanted the relief. “Okay?” he tried.

She blinked for a second, and then swallowed.  “Yeah, go ahead and start on my back. I’ll get the front.”

Hunk flipped the cap open and squeezed a little bit onto his hand -- it was fairly viscous, thicker than the sunscreen he was used to, but not as sticky as toothpaste.  He handed the tube to Pidge, and started applying it at the nape of her neck.

“You said you are normally sensitive to the sun?” Rayshee said.  “Is this common for your species? The others did not complain of it.”

“It’s not all of us,” Pidge said.  “Just people like me with really pale skin, we burn if we don’t use some kind of protection.  People like Hunk are probably like you, he can be out in it all day.”

“Yes, of course,” Rayshee said.  “You said that your ancestors are from a temperate region, and Hunk’s are equatorial.”

It was a gross simplification of the admittedly tricky concept that Pidge had tried to explain last night.  But it was pretty close, especially considering these people all looked pretty similar and seemed not to have a concept of race like humans did.  “Yeah, sort of,” Pidge agreed.

“How does the cream feel?”

Hunk had finished the exposed parts of Pidge’s back and shoulders, and was starting to psych himself up to reach under the straps and upper edge of her shirt.

“It feels nice,” Pidge said.  “Hurts less already.”

Hunk took a steadying breath.  “I’m going to get under the edge of your shirt.”

She might have tensed for a moment, but it was possible he imagined it.  “Okay.”

And then she pushed the strap off her shoulder, and the line where her bra strap had been was white for a moment before it returned to the same ruddy shade as the rest of her skin.  She rubbed cream on the front while Hunk got the back, and then they both switched to the other side. Hunk wasn’t sure how far down her back the rash went, and he wasn’t going to pull on her shirt too much, but he reached a couple of inches under with his fingers and she didn’t pull away.  He was almost surprised that she didn’t seem fragile or anything, but she was as solid as ever, firm and muscular just underneath the rash.

Pidge set the tube on the kitchen counter.  “In case I need it later.”

Hunk pulled away, realizing he’d spent the last thirty seconds or so not really doing anything, just rubbing her skin.  “Yeah. Let me just wash my hands and we can go.”

 

Rayshee’s motorbike rickshaw was parked just where it had been the day before, and they took the same route back to the university as they had to the reception the night before.  Once they were on campus she turned a different direction for a few minutes and parked in front of a four-story building that was mostly glass, though a lot of the windows were slightly open.

“This is mathematics and computer architecture,” Rayshee said.  “Underneath we have basement laboratories for material science, and the other wing is physics and astronomy.”  She pointed down the path, past an open-air space to a connected, identical building, then turned around to gesture behind them.  “This building is chemistry and biology, though I expect you will not spend much time there.”

Three Basherim emerged from the math building then, and one of them called to Rayshee and waved.

“Warm morning!” Rayshee called, and gestured to Hunk and Pidge to follow her over.  “This is Peet, he is your scientific liaison and a senior researcher in computer architecture.  I believe you met yesterday?”

The name seemed familiar to Hunk, and Pidge nodded.  “Yeah, I remember. Nice to see you again.”

He smiled brightly.  “We are forever grateful to you for making this partnership with our team.”

When he spoke, Hunk remembered him -- last night he’d mostly talked to Pidge.  “We’re glad to be here,” Hunk said. “We’re hoping to learn as much from you as we’re going to teach.”

Peet laughed.  “Certainly! May I introduce my fellow professors Meeram and Saloma in material technology engineering who will be working with us.  I believe our plan for today is to begin with energy and data partnering?”

“Sounds good to me,” Pidge said, glancing up at Hunk.

“Yeah, that’ll work.  We have a lot of experience with Galra systems so that should be a good starting point.”

One of the Basherim -- Saloma, was it? -- grimaced a little at the mention of the Galra, but her expression quickly returned to neutral.  Hunk made a mental note to try not to mention them specifically again. Have to remember that these people had spent the last several years occupied by them, and although they showed no evidence of it now, it had definitely been a harrowing time that everyone remembered clearly.

So Rayshee said goodbye, and Hunk and Pidge followed their new colleagues inside, eager to get to work on a technological system that no one in the coalition had ever studied before.

 

By the time Rayshee came back a couple of hours later to gather them for lunch, the five of them had hacked together a couple of ugly but functional dongles, and a text file conversion algorithm that interfaced with the translator on both ends and had already proven itself on a handful of files.  But it was definitely time for a good break, and they all agreed to go to the aphelion festival that had been set up on the edge of campus.

As they left the building, Rayshee handed a thick stick to Pidge.  “I found this for you, to protect your skin from the sun.” It became instantly clear that it was a parasol when she popped it open exactly like the ones on Earth, to Pidge’s obvious delight.

“Oh man!”  She took it and set it on her shoulder with a little twirl, and looked at Hunk with a big grin.  “What do you think?”

It was a lovely parasol, sort of a light sage green and slightly lacy, but solid and large enough to give her good sun protection.  “You look really fancy.”

She laughed.  “I _feel_ fancy.  Man, I should always have one of these.  No more sunburns for me!”

“I am very gratified that it suits!” Rayshee said.  “I chose the color to match your Voltron lion.”

“I love it,” Pidge said, spinning it and watching the light move through the lacy bits.  “I really do, thank you so much.”

Pidge looked great with it, and her obvious delight amplified the effect to the point that Hunk couldn’t take his attention off her as they all strolled across campus, towards the sound and brightly-colored tents.

As they got into it though, the crowd was dense enough that Pidge folded up the parasol so it wouldn’t bump strangers in the neck as they meandered.  There was an awful lot to see in what wasn’t actually a very large space, and their hosts seemed to be trying to make sure that Pidge and Hunk weren’t stuck in the crowd, that they could see all the tents they passed and get a good eyeful of who-knows-what.

Luckily the food vendors were obvious, and after they’d all gotten something to eat -- Hunk and Pidge had both chosen sandwich-adjacent things that were kind of like shawarma --  Pidge seemed particularly energetic, and led the way along with Meeram while the rest of them trailed a bit behind, just taking everything in, the colors, the smells, the music.

After maybe ten minutes of this, Saloma stepped beside Hunk.  “Is Pidge considered particularly attractive for humans?”

The question caught Hunk off guard; he looked from Saloma to his companion, who was talking excitedly with a vendor about something that seemed to be a gadget.  “I mean, she’s not, like, conventionally attractive. She’s pretty average by society’s standards, I guess.”

“Is it because of her pale skin?”

Hunk actually laughed.  “No, on Earth pale skin is really desirable in most places.  But human women who are considered really pretty are, like, tall and slim and delicate.  Pidge is short and she’s really built.”

Saloma seemed confused.  “Built?”

“Muscular,” Hunk clarified.  “She’s tough.”

“Ah.  Yes, she is,” Saloma said.  “And are human women usually taller?”

“Usually, a little.  Pidge is … well, she’s on the short side of average.  But a lot of the ones who are famous for being beautiful are a lot taller.  Like, almost as tall as me.”

“I hear.  But despite this, you find her attractive.”

The translator presented the phrase as a statement, rather than a question, and Hunk wondered for a moment if it was suddenly struggling with tone for some reason.  In any case, the answer was about to pop off his tongue, so he was going to confess his feelings for Pidge for the very first time, to an alien he’d known for only a few hours.  His heart pounded and he let the words flow. “Yeah, I do.”

“And what about human men?  Are you attractive?”

He almost laughed again, as much from the adorable alien naïveté of the statement as from her complete lack of acknowledgement of the importance of his statement.  “God, no. I mean, I’m tall enough, but I’m way too fat for like … common standards of beauty.”

Saloma was definitely confused this time.  “I believe the translator has made an error?”

“What did it do?”

“You described yourself as a … a category of organic chemical?”

Oh -- _oh,_ oh shit, was Basherlik actually not shitty to fat people?  “Oh -- yeah, so, in my language _fat_ is an organic chemical, but we also use the same word to describe people who have a lot of fatty tissue.  Adipose tissue.”

“Oh, yes, I hear.  In Basherlik we would simply say you are large, or thick, unless we had a reason to describe your bodily composition by the amount of particular tissues.  The relative prevalence of adipose to other types of tissue is irrelevant outside of a medical setting.”

And of course the translator seemed to be perfectly fine with _adipose tissue_ and all the other technical terms _._  “Anyway.  The fact that I’m this big means I’m never going to be considered particularly good-looking.”

Saloma actually seemed surprised.  “Larger humans are considered less attractive?”

“Is that different than it is here?”

“Size is largely irrelevant to attraction here.  Individuals have preferences, of course, but many of our famous beauties are shaped like you.”

Hunk tried not to blush; he’d never felt attractive in his life.  Even people he’d trusted had sometimes said negative things about his weight.  The only place he’d felt like he fit in was on the rugby team in high school, but even then it was sort of conditional, like his weight was okay because he could use it to play the game.

Here on Runmayr, the natives had all sorts of builds.  The vast majority of them were very tall, of course, and many were distinctly willowy, but even to an alien like him there was clearly a large variety of body types.  It would take him a while to get used to this concept that none of them were looking at him and judging him for his jiggly belly or double chin.

Saloma made a sort of awkward sound, which made Hunk realize he’d been kind of staring at Pidge while his brain struggled to process.  “Around directions, it is clear that Pidge finds you attractive, no matter what the standards are on Earth.”

He turned to her so fast it almost made him dizzy.  The translator had done the thing again, where it sounded like Saloma was very certain of what she was saying.  And she’d only known Pidge a few hours, how could she possibly know that when Hunk had known her for years and never seen any indication?

Saloma gave him an odd look.  “What?”

He had to force his voice out.  “Nothing. Just … nothing.”

Saloma gave him a slightly different look, but didn’t push it, and Hunk was glad for the culture’s non-confrontational tendencies.  And before the silence between them could get awkward, Pidge bounced over, holding the gadget.

“Look what I got!”

Hunk tried to get a look at it, though she was moving a bit too much for him to see clearly.  He put his hands on hers as she held it, stilling it. “What is it?”

“I have no idea!”

Hunk laughed, and gave her hands a little squeeze before he let go.  “That guy wasn’t telling you what it does?”

“I mean, he was, but there was _definitely_ a lot getting lost in translation.”

“Oh!” Saloma said, peering at it.  “That’s a גגנשטנד.”

Pidge and Hunk both stared at her for a moment, but the translator didn’t follow through on the word.  “All right,” Pidge giggled, looking back to it. “I guess we’ll have to learn your word for it.”

“The word doesn’t really mean anything,” Saloma explained.  “It’s an educational toy for children.”

“He thought you were a child,” Hunk teased, and Pidge bumped him with her elbow.

“He knew who I was, doofus.  We’re the only two aliens on the planet right now.”

“Fair enough.”

Meeram joined them.  “Are you pleased with your memorial?”

Pidge glanced up at her.  “Well, I’m not sure if memorial is the right word.”

“I’d call it a souvenir,” Hunk said.

Meeram and Saloma looked at each other.  “That is the same word to us,” Saloma said.  “Your language has many different words with partnered meaning.”

“Whatever it is,” Pidge said, “it’s mine now and I’m super psyched to get it back to the Castle and take it apart.”

Saloma and Meeram laughed, a bit of delight that meant they knew Pidge’s exploratory impulse quite well -- after a morning of working with them, Hunk understood clearly that they were an awful lot like him and Pidge.  He was excited to take the gadget apart too, but even more than that he knew that this giddy lightness in his heart was from Pidge’s excitement, from the anticipation of being there with her while she absolutely destroyed this little bit of engineering to work out how it ticked.  Her happiness was the best part of all this.

Peet walked up to them, with Rayshee right behind.  “I am eager to return to our work,” he said. “Have you had enough rest?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Hunk said.

Pidge looked at her new gadget for a moment with an expression that said she wanted to keep goofing off, but then she nodded.  “Me too. Let’s finish testing that algorithm for plaintext and then get going on images.”

 

Rayshee met them again when they were finished for the afternoon; the day hadn’t felt as long as a usual workday on Earth, Hunk thought, though he wasn’t used to Basherlik timekeeping so he couldn’t be sure.  And there was the fact that they had started pretty late. But in any event, he wasn’t worn out like he often was at the end of a school day at home, and Pidge seemed energetic too. Rayshee took them back to their apartment building and gave them a small square card, explaining that it was loaded with value that they could use to purchase whatever they liked at the beach festival for their dinner, as well as anything they wanted to have on hand for breakfast the next day.

When she left, Hunk and Pidge went downstairs with her to check out the festival they’d seen setting up that morning.  It was rather different than the one by the university, as it turned out; in addition to the food vendors and little festival games, a large part of it was an open-air market, selling fresh fruits and all sorts of other things that looked familiar from a distance, but then looked alien close-up.  Pidge clearly wasn’t as interested in this as Hunk was, but she tagged along with him while he let himself indulge in touching and smelling everything he could get his hands on.

He was excited to find he could identify the fruits they’d enjoyed for breakfast, though purchasing them was more of a hassle than he’d anticipated.  When he’d chosen his fruit, the vendor held out a little device with a number displaying (that Hunk couldn’t read, of course) and what seemed to be a touchpad underneath.  After a minute the vendor managed to explain that this was how he paid, the device was a biometric scanner, and the capillary pattern in his palm was linked to his payment account -- and then they both realized that this wasn’t going to work very well with off-worlders.

Pidge produced the card then: the vendor took a look at it and sighed, saying he would be right back, and disappeared around the back of his tent.  He finally returned a minute later with a bigger, blocky device, and something that looked exactly like an aux cord. He plugged the first device into the second, and then inserted the card into a slot.  “I haven’t seen one of these in years,” he explained while they waited for it to work. “Good thing I have my square with me today.”

A little giggle burst out of Pidge.  “That’s so funny that you call it a square, we have a device on our home planet with a similar function and we call it the same thing.”

The vendor grinned at her.  “What do they call that, convergent evolution?”

“I don’t think evolution is quite the right word, but yeah.”

Hunk wrapped up the transaction, and then Pidge helped him carry the fruit back to their apartment before they went back out on the beach again, this time in search of dinner.  The offerings near their building were very tempting, and even though Hunk wanted to explore and see all of the options, Pidge was clearly as hungry as he was and practically dragged him to the one they could smell from their lanai.  It turned out to be a bowl of something like rice with a huge selection of toppings, and neither of them knew what anything was, but they put together two different servings of it and then shared them as they strolled down the boardwalk.

It was a little bit strange, being out in public without Rayshee or anyone who was clearly there with them -- they got an awful lot of double-takes, and people whispering to each other with wide eyes.  Hunk supposed they stood out even more than on most of the planets they visited, since the Basherim had never had a proper first contact. Aliens were particularly alien here.

But everyone they interacted with was friendly, and not only definitely knew who they were, but knew their names too.  Pidge pointed out that it was likely everyone had seen the telecast of their presentation the previous evening.

The sun got lower as they strolled together, and the wind got cooler, and the music got louder.  Pidge slipped into her sweatshirt that she’d brought from the apartment, and seemed to be keeping a little closer to Hunk than she had been before.  Maybe that wasn’t really happening, maybe it was just the atmosphere of the evening, the easy, interconnected feeling that permeated the whole festival.  But he felt closer to her, and even if it wasn’t physical there was something emotional to it, a closeness that came from sharing this experience together, from exploring and chatting and just being in the same place.  And even though the wind carried a chill, his heart was warm with Pidge at his side.

A number of musical acts had set up down on the beach, and after they’d walked far enough that they couldn’t see their apartment building any more, they decided to get down off the boardwalk and walk home through the sand.

The boardwalk wasn’t super high off the beach, and they’d seen Basherim hopping down off similar spots so the lack of stairs clearly wasn’t meant to be a deterrent.  But it was a little high; Hunk sat down on the edge before he hopped off, and when his feet hit the sand his hand that still gripped the edge was at chest height.

Pidge went next, but halfway through her bravado abruptly faltered, and she tried to regain her balance on the boardwalk when her weight was already halfway off.  She pitched forward, and Hunk reacted without thinking.

“Woah!” he gasped, grabbing her around the waist to arrest her fall.  Her hands connected hard with the top of his chest, and she grabbed at his shirt.  He swallowed hard, leaning back enough to look at her face and make sure she was okay.  “I’ve got you.”

Pidge’s face was a palimpsest as she studied him, her emotions written and then quickly re-written across it, so many layers that he could barely make anything out except that she was definitely feeling _something_ , a whole lot of something, layers and layers of it that kept both of her hands pressed against him and her breath quick and shallow.  He wouldn’t have been surprised if his own depth of feeling for her was tactile through his very skin, telling her how much he adored her.

The thought itself came as a slight surprise, and even more surprising was his certainty that that instinct, that _adoration_ , was not a new phenomenon.  It was absolutely real, it had been there inside him for so long he’d gotten used to it but suddenly he was fully aware of it, and of its perfect ache that made him long to tell her.

He adjusted his hands on her waist, and the motion was enough to break her out of whatever had come over them.  She hopped down off the boardwalk, her hands gripping his biceps for stability as her feet hit the soft sand.

“You good?” he said, but his voice came out as sort of a croak.

She nodded.  “Yeah. Just, uh. It’s kind of weird the things that remind me that I’m super tiny compared to the Basherim.”

He was overcome with the urge to hug her.  He leaned in, testing, and she pressed into him instantly, sliding her arms around him.

It happened without him even trying, he tightened his grip around her shoulders until he could feel her chest expanding when she breathed, until she laid her face against his chest and gripped the back of his shirt.

They stood silently for a long minute before Hunk found his voice.  “Sure you’re okay?”

Pidge nodded, rubbing her hair against his shirt.  He dipped his head, just enough to smell the product she’d put into it.  She took a couple of breaths. “I am now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Their second morning on Runmayr, Hunk woke to rain again.  But this time there was weak sunlight coming through the clouds too, so he figured it was time to get out of bed.

The door to Pidge’s bedroom was ajar, and he poked his head in just a bit -- she was definitely still in bed, though all he could really see was the lump of her body curled up under the blankets and some of her golden brown hair lying in a puff on her pillow.

He went back out to the kitchen, and figured he’d start the coffee.  He didn’t know what time it was by local reckoning, but he’d figure it out in a bit.  And worst case scenario, he and Pidge would have to get ready in a hurry once Rayshee came to collect them.

Hunk spent a good hour out on the lanai, slowly drinking his coffee and eating the fruit he’d bought the previous day.  The world was a lot quieter in the rain; there were still people down below getting their tents ready for the day’s festival, but there were fewer of them, and almost nobody on the beach.

After a bit Pidge got up and joined him with her own cup of coffee, and they watched as the rainclouds gradually blew over to reveal a bright blue sky.

Hunk wanted to say something to her about yesterday, about the _something_ that had passed between them in the evening.  But he wasn’t sure how to put it into words. He’d felt something that was unfamiliar, and had felt it especially strongly when she’d almost fallen off the boardwalk.  It was like there was some sort of new connection between them, though he didn’t see how that could be. Nevertheless, he felt it. He felt closer to her than ever before, and the feeling from the night before had bled over to this morning.  They were just sitting here together, not even talking, but he felt like they were doing something … intimate.

The quiet between them was almost sacred.  Neither spoke, and they didn’t even look at each other, but Hunk could feel that she was there, that she was alive and vital and sublime.  And that somehow, it felt like she was his.

Hunk never did check the local time.  They were both a little surprised when Rayshee showed up, interrupting the quiet and breaking the spell.  But they were ready to go, and they didn’t have to give Pidge any emergency treatment for a food allergy again, so they headed out.

Peet, Saloma, and Meeram met them at the university again, and they picked up just where they’d left off.  The day went by quickly, and at the end they’d made an impressive amount of progress and had started to list out the additional projects they wanted to try to tackle while they were all together.  It was beginning to look like a lot of work, but they were all riding the sort of high that left them convinced they could do anything.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Rayshee came in and interrupted them again.  The hiccup in their momentum left Hunk suddenly feeling how tired he was, and his companions all agreed that it was past time to stop for the day.

Before Rayshee could take them home, though, Pidge suggested checking out the festival that was in the downtown area, seeing how it was different than the one on the beach down by where they were staying.  Hunk thought that was a great idea, so Rayshee took them just five minutes away to the edge of the tents that had completely taken over a big square in what looked like the financial center of the city.

The first thing that struck Hunk was that although he smelled a couple of familiar things, there were lots of intriguing unfamiliar smells too.  Pidge was right beside him as he entered the festival in search of something new to try, and Rayshee trailed a few steps behind.

They made their way through the festival at a fairly brisk pace -- there was an awful lot to see, but Hunk’s focus this time was things that were new to him.  They sampled all of the unfamiliar foods as they walked, and with Rayshee’s help, they were able to get better explanations of what the food was than they’d managed when they were alone the previous evening.  Hunk figured that was another facet of that quirk of the Basherim where they were plenty friendly with strangers, but they had an awkwardness that tended to get in the way of communication.

By the time they’d eaten everything that made them curious, they’d wound their way through the square to the park that backed up onto the beach.  Pidge declared that she was still hungry, and Hunk wasn’t full yet either -- they’d barely eaten all day, and the walking and nibbling had only whetted his appetite.

He let Pidge choose dinner, and she made a beeline to a stall they’d just passed and got a wrap sandwich the size of her face; it was the same thing they’d had a few days before.  Hunk didn’t get one of his own, figuring Pidge would need help; he tried to get Rayshee to tell him what this was called, but the translator struggled so much, and it seemed to be a rather complicated thing, that he just gave up.  Pidge had latched on to calling it Basherlik shawarma, and there was definitely something in it that bore a striking resemblance to baba ghanouj.

They heard a noise that sounded distinctly like amplifier feedback -- and then it cut off abruptly, and there was laughter from a few people.  It had come from the stage that was set up on the edge of the beach, facing the water, and there were a few people up there clearly setting up for a musical act.

“Should we go check that out?” Hunk said.

Pidge shrugged and nodded, her mouth full of food.

“I’m not sure who’s playing here,” Rayshee said.  “I could have gotten a schedule if I’d known you were interested in the music.”

“I mean, I’m not sure the band names would mean anything to us.  Or even whatever you call the musical styles.”

Rayshee threw him a cheeky smile.  “Well, _I_ would have known.  We can go over there, and you can decide if you like it.  Though it will probably be a little while before the main act begins.”

“I’m game,” Pidge said, and she held the sandwich out to Hunk.  “If you want some of this you better get in on it now, or I’m going to just finish it.”

She had somehow taken down a good third of it in only a couple of minutes.  “Damn, Pidge, do they not feed you?”

She elbowed him playfully and wiped a little smear of baba ghanouj off the corner of her mouth.  “Shut up.”

The sandwich was delicious, of course; Hunk tried to savor it as they wandered down onto the beach, and when he gave it back to Pidge she immediately took another enormous bite out of it.  They did their best to trade off until it was done, though sharing it wasn’t an easy task; Hunk supposed if it was anyone other than Pidge it might have been impossible. He definitely had to study this sometime and figure out how to recreate it on his own, after they’d left.  Maybe he could even find the right person to talk to about a recipe -- this seemed to be a fairly common dish here, and both of the versions they’d had were equally good, so anybody who sort of knew how to make it would be able to set him on the right path.

Once they had finished it, Hunk produced a handful of paper napkins that he’d squirreled away in a pocket, and watched in amusement as Pidge cleaned off her face, looking very satisfied as she did.

“Oh!” Rayshee said suddenly.  “I see something you have to try, a sweet dish.  If you’re still hungry?”

Hunk exchanged a look with Pidge.  “Sure, I could do dessert.”

“Why don’t you stay here by the stage while I go get some.  You should get some פם too, it will be good after your dinner.”  She pointed to a tent right by the stage that appeared to only be selling one thing, clear cups of a light-colored beverage.  “They will give it to you without payment, so you don’t need the card.”

“What’s … פם?” Pidge said, doing her best to mimic the word -- on her lips it sounded more like an actual word to Hunk, though _pem_ wasn’t something he’d ever heard of before.

Rayshee chuckled.  “I apologize, I should have known the translator would not have a word for you.  It is a beverage, we have it at all festivals and special occasions. There are different varieties, but all of them are fermented fruit juice.  The one at that tent is the one most common here in Telav.”

“It’s not that fruit I’m allergic to, is it?” Pidge asked, suddenly hesitant.

“Oh, no, we rarely make פם with ערדבאר.  And you could tell if it was, that variety is cloudy.  This one is clear. Go, get some, you will like it. I will be a short time with your מלחאס.”  And she set off away from them, towards a stand that looked awfully crowded.

Hunk looked down at Pidge.  “So. Um. _Pem_?”

She shrugged.  “Sure? Rayshee hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

It was only a few steps over to the tent with the _pem_ , and as soon as Hunk got close a very young, very awkward Basherlik woman shoved two cups at him while avoiding eye contact, and then quickly disappeared into the back of the tent.

He turned to Pidge, who stifled a laugh as she took one of the cups from him.  “She was totally _not_ psyched to be serving the aliens.”

Hunk laughed with her as they made their way closer to the stage, where the guy sitting on the edge of it had been joined by another with a handheld percussion instrument.  “Yeah, that wasn’t her idea of a good time.” He sniffed the drink in his hand -- it was fruity, and definitely alcoholic. “So, um … this is booze.”

Pidge smelled hers, and raised her eyebrows.  “Oh, sure enough. Well, Rayshee did say it’s fermented.”

“I don’t think it’s distilled or anything.  Probably like wine.” He took a steadying breath -- this was a first he hadn’t expected to encounter here.  “Shall we?”

Pidge kept studying it, and she seemed uncertain.  “I don’t know, I’m not twenty-one yet.”

Hunk was twenty-one, but only just recently, and there hadn’t been anything like time to celebrate.  “But you’re over eighteen, which is the drinking age in a lot of places back home.”

She studied the clear plastic cup and its light pinky-orange contents. “True. And it’s not like anything is going to happen if we drink a little, we’re safe here.”

“Right. And like, come on, we’ve been fighting this huge-ass space war for how long? It’s not like we aren’t adults by any measure.”

She looked up at him with a smile and held up her cup. “Very good point. Well, then.”

He clinked his against it. “Cheers.”

“L’chaim.”

A little knot of people nearby were apparently paying attention, and all raised their cups. “לחם!”

The translator put it through a moment later as “congratulations,” and they shared a bashful smile as they took a sip of the drink. It was nice, sweet and a little bit floral, with very little alcohol flavor and bright effervescence that tickled up Hunk’s nose.  Nothing at all like nunvil, which was definitely a plus.

“Wow,” Pidge said.  “Nothing at all like beer.”

Hunk struggled to swallow his mouthful before he could let out a laugh.  “How exactly would you know?!”

“I grew up in Salt Lake City, man, it’s like hipster-ass microbrewery central, and my parents are totally into that.  They’ve been letting me taste it since I was little. I never _liked_ it, but for some reason I still always wanted to taste it.”

Hunk didn’t resist the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders, something that was kind of a hug of friendly affection and kind of just needing to touch her.  “Can’t relate. I’ve never even smelled it.”

“It’s objectively kind of gross, though my mom says that hops are an acquired taste.  Did you never drink at all at home?”

“Of course not, you know me: I’m a goody-two-shoes with a weak stomach.  I was barely nineteen when we came out here and no way I was going to be drinking poison when I got motion sick during IMAX movies.”

“But you’re okay with this?”

He shrugged, and took another sip -- it was growing on him.  “I’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Hah!  Well, you’re not wrong.”

It struck him how much like an adult he actually felt, these days.  In some ways it kind of sucked: he definitely missed the lack of responsibilities of being a kid, though it had been many years even before the Garrison since that had really been his situation.  But it was also kind of neat, being responsible for himself and his friends, and knowing that the life he had now was one he had _made_ through his own sweat and blood.

He took another drink of the _pem_ , and let himself enjoy the way the bubbles fizzed in his mouth, how the alcohol made the edges of his tongue feel a little bit funny if he held it in his mouth long enough, and then how it warmed his belly when he swallowed it.  “I like this stuff.”

“Me too,” Pidge said.  “Now that I’m over the surprise of it being alcohol and them giving it to us for free.”

“I’ve seen it at the other festivals we went to,” Hunk said.  “I kind of thought it was just like, agua fresca or something.  I think the one by our apartment building has multiple kinds.”

“It’s more like Basherlik Manischewitz,” Pidge giggled.  “Like, _obviously_ this is what everybody drinks when you’re celebrating.  You know?”

Hunk didn’t; he shrugged, and Pidge shrugged back, apparently deciding there was too much in her statement to explain while they were drinking fruit wine on the beach waiting for a concert.

Rayshee returned as the people on stage were completing the setup, and when she got close Hunk had to do a double take -- she was carrying a pair of small ice cream cones.

“Are you serious!” Pidge said, hopping over to meet her and eagerly accepting one of them.

Rayshee seemed surprised, and handed the second one to Hunk.  “You know of this?”

It smelled like vanilla and coffee, and when Hunk licked it, it tasted _exactly_ like the coffee gelato from that one place by his aunt’s house.  Even the texture was identical. “Oh my god. This is exactly like what we have at home.”

“Holy shit,” Pidge groaned happily.  “It’s affogato. We found the affogato planet.”

Rayshee still wore a bemused expression.  “It seems we have several foods that are familiar to you.  I did not expect this when you arrived.”

“Me neither,” Hunk said, and he forced himself to slow down and savor it -- he could easily have finished it in two bites.  “But, you know, our homeworld isn’t actually that far away. Only about fifteen parsecs.”

Pidge raised her eyebrows at him.  “You think the proximity has something to do with it?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve sure seen a lot of coincidences.  I mean, coffee? Vanilla? It might bear study at some point down the line.”

“It certainly is intriguing,” Rayshee said, and Hunk could practically see the gears turning inside her head.  “I will recommend it for further study with our xenoanthropology department.”

Pidge barked a laugh, and Hunk almost snorted ice cream up his nose; Rayshee looked startled now.  “What?”

“Oh my god,” Hunk said, trying to calm down enough to speak -- Pidge was silently laughing so hard she looked like she was going to fall over.  “It’s just -- the translator. The word it used there was one I suggested to Pidge the other day as a joke.”

The lighting changed, illuminating the stage, and the small crowd cheered as three musicians took the stage.  Or, at least, Hunk figured they were musicians. Two were carrying objects that were vaguely guitar-like, and after a minute or so they started playing something that sounded a lot like bluegrass.

It was fairly engaging, though Hunk wasn’t a big fan of bluegrass music, and even though this wasn’t quite the same, he still wasn’t that into it.  But Pidge seemed to be enjoying it while she finished her ice cream, and once Hunk had polished his off -- the cone tasted like a plain rice cake, which wasn’t the most pleasant thing -- Rayshee turned to both of them again.

“So, two days from now is Mountaintop,” she said, a little bit slowly.  “It is not too late for you to join, if it pleases you. I can reserve a space for you.”

“What’s Mountaintop?” Pidge said, redirecting her attention from the musicians.

“One of our Aphelion Festival events.  It takes place at the temple on the mountaintop above the city, outside a town called Erusa, on the day of Aphelion itself.  It is a ceremony and celebration for partnering, both new partners and old. Some people have even undertaken it every year since they were first partnered.  My sister and her partner have invited you to join them.”

Pidge looked up at Hunk, eyes wide.  He found he couldn’t quite breathe -- the translator’s difficulties had suddenly become apparent to both of them, it seemed.

“Um,” he tried, and his voice squeaked a little before he could get control.  “Partnering, this … this is the same word you used when I was working on power and when Pidge was working on the data files?”

Rayshee smiled awkwardly.  “Yes, we use the same word for it.  Your language has discrete words?”

Pidge looked a even more like her head was about to explode -- probably the translator’s use of the word _discrete._

“Yeah,” Hunk said.  “We have technical terms for the technology ones.”

Rayshee nodded.  “Ah yes, I understand.”

“Why would …” Pidge started, and then swallowed hard.  “Why are you inviting us to Mountaintop? It sounds like a kind of … I dunno, sacred sort of thing?”

Rayshee shook her head with a gentle smile.  “There are very few who believe the old religion in this time, it is merely a cultural celebration now.  Mountaintop is a joyful experience, and since you are partners we would like to share it with you.”

Okay -- okay, _breathe_ , this was okay.  Well, it was a horrible misunderstanding, but it wasn’t actually a bad thing, right?

“Um,” Pidge said.  “I mean … I think we’ll have to get back to you?  Tomorrow?”

Rayshee made an awkward face.  “Tomorrow is … not ideal. We would need adequate time to ensure the space and supplies were prepared for you.”

Pidge looked up at Hunk, and her face was uncertain but with a blush of hope that spoke to his heart.  There was obviously something going on that they weren’t quite aware of, but he knew it now, and he was sure Pidge did too.  “What the heck,” he said, trying to sound certain. “Yeah, we’ll go. It’s not exactly good diplomacy to turn down an invitation, is it?”

Pidge giggled suddenly before she caught herself, and Rayshee looked delighted.  “Wonderful! I will speak with my sister this evening. They will be so pleased that you will join them, we did not know you were partners when you arrived so it is a lovely surprise that you will be able to share this tradition of ours.”

It was kind of sinking in for Hunk suddenly what this was actually about.  “We’re looking forward to it,” he managed.

Rayshee was beaming.  “Lovely. I will give you the details when I see you tomorrow.  It becomes late now, do you wish to stay further, or is it all right if I take you home?”

“Actually,” Hunk said, feeling a tiny bit desperate to be alone with Pidge, “I think we’ll be good here.  It’s not that far back to our place, right?”

“No, not terribly far.  Maybe one-half שטונדנ to walk slowly, and it’s directly along the beach.”  She pointed. “You are certain it is all right that I go?”

Hunk glanced at Pidge, and she nodded -- they had a fairly good handle on what a שטונדנ was now.  “Yeah, we’re good,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

“You are welcome.  I will see you at the usual time tomorrow.”  And she was off, leaving Hunk and Pidge staring after her and suddenly wondering what the _fuck_ they had just agreed to.

“So, uh,” Pidge said, her voice cracking a little.  “I think we … I think we should address the fact that Rayshee thinks we’re a couple, and we agreed to go on a couples’ retreat.  Or … or something.”

“I don’t think it’s just Rayshee,” Hunk said, forcing the words around the lump in his throat.  “I was talking to Saloma yesterday and got the same sense.”

Pidge nodded, looking past him at the ocean and biting her lip.  “I don’t know how, but it’s like everybody here somehow got the wrong idea that we’re … together.”

Hunk took a deep breath, and then another one, and decided to go for it -- his chance wasn’t going to get much better.  “Well, what if ... what if they’re _not_ wrong?”

She turned and blinked at him, surprise and hope splashed all across her face.  “I could … they could be not wrong.”

God, she was beautiful, she was _so_ beautiful, and her hair was golden and her skin was radiant in the early evening sunlight and she had just said what he had never dared to hope to hear her say.  He reached towards her, and her hand met his, cool skin on cool skin, and their fingers slipped together, a light touch but a sure connection. Her hands were so small, he could envelop it with his entirely.

“I, um,” Pidge began, tucking her hair behind her ear as she watched their entwined hands.  “I guess now’s the time to tell you I was sort of thinking that maybe while we were here, I would…”  She hesitated and swallowed, and Hunk tightened his fingers in hers, trying to be reassuring. “I was hoping to find an opportunity to tell you how I feel.”

His heart was pounding.  “Yeah?”

She let out a little giggle.  “I guess this is it.”

“Guess so.”

She looked up at him, smiling shyly.  “You’re such a great friend. I almost don’t want to ruin that by trying to be more.”

“Well, who says it’s ruining?  We won’t stop being friends. We just….”  He paused, trying to figure out how to get the feeling in his chest to become words.  Pidge ran her thumb over his finger. “I can’t imagine it would be anything but even better.  I mean….” He took a deep breath. _Time to do it._  “I’m in love with you.  I have been for a while.”

Her face went on a short journey, from hope to surprise to delight.  “I love you too,” she whispered, and his heart soared. “You’re the best, and I love you.”

“Not as the best as you.”

“God, stop!” she laughed, squeezing his hand.  “You’re just being silly now.”

“Yeah, because it’s making you laugh.”  He would do anything to make her laugh, to see the way the joy of it lit up her face, made her nose scrunch up, how it animated her whole body.  When Pidge was laughing, nothing else mattered.

She stood up, still giggling.  “Anyway. I’ve had enough of this band, let’s start walking and see what else we can find.”

Hunk stood, keeping hold of her fingers as he let her tug on him.  “You asking me for a long walk on the beach?”

She bumped him with her shoulder, and she was grinning as she took his other hand.  “I’m asking you to take me dancing.”

 

 

The next musical act they found was about fifteen minutes down the beach, and the style was very different than the first, and the crowd was a lot larger and more energetic.  The music reminded Hunk of the Bollywood music videos he’d seen, and dancing to it was easy, fun; he wasn’t really dancing _with_ Pidge, but they were having a good time with it.

After another upbeat song, the band slowed down.  Some people moved off to the side and sat down in the sand, but there were still a lot of people dancing, paired up now, moving in the way that seemed to be universally sensual.  Pidge looked up at Hunk through her fringe, grinning as she stepped close. “Hey.”

His heart was in his throat as he reached out and took both of her hands in his.  “Hey.”

She swayed closer to him, then gently took his wrist and set his hand on her hip. “Don’t be shy, you’re my boyfriend now.”

He blushed furiously, and hoped she couldn’t see it in the fading light. “Sorry, habit. I’m not used to ... being able to touch you. Like this, I mean.”

She suddenly seemed unsure. “I mean, only do it if you want to.”

“Oh! No, I absolutely do want to.” He swallowed hard, and slid his hand around her waist, drawing her body up against his.  His heart thundered inside his chest at the intimacy of the touch. “I’m just still getting used to being allowed to -- want you.”

She licked her lips as he swayed them to the music.  “You’re allowed to want me,” she whispered, laying her arm on his shoulder.

To think about _wanting her_ , to have her consent, was absolutely overwhelming.  He wrapped his arms around her and bent down, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply, the scent of her mingling with the lingering traces of their meal and the immense, ever-present ocean.  Her hand found the back of his neck, and she ran her fingers through his hair, pressing into his scalp, holding him just where he was. He wasn’t even trying to dance, any more, he couldn’t; all he could do was hold her, be present in this contact.

She shifted, just a little bit, pressing the side of her face against his, and she breathed a deep sigh.

Hunk barely heard the rest of the song.  He’d wanted -- for _so long_ he’d wanted to hold Pidge like this.  To have her in his arms, to be able to use his whole body to show her how much he cared about her.  It was intoxicating, and he didn’t think that was the _pem_.  Pidge was just so … well, she was Pidge, and that was everything he wanted.

Well, not everything.  Kissing her had suddenly made itself an urgent priority.  This wasn’t really the moment for it, not yet, but his heart wanted it now more than ever.

When the music changed, picking the tempo back up again, Hunk relaxed his hold on Pidge.  She pulled back, but not far; she took his hand and led him over past the edge of the crowd, where they sat in the sand, watching the dancers’ energy grow as they simply sat together in the same place.

“Sure is a nice way to celebrate finally being together-together,” Pidge murmured.

Hunk wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close, relishing the warmth of her skin as the evening breeze began to take on a bit of a chill. “Finally?”

“Oh, god.” She giggled and hid her face against his shoulder. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

“That embarrassing, huh?”

“Like you’re any better, I’m sure.”

“I’m not embarrassed about liking you.” He took her chin gently, and she didn’t resist him turning her face up to his. “About loving you.”

Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, then back up to meet his gaze, and her tongue darted out for the tiniest of moments to moisten her lips, which then stayed slightly parted. He suddenly knew what she wanted, what she was suggesting, and he wanted it too, he wanted it desperately.  It was time.

God, this was just about the boldest thing he’d ever done.

He leaned in and kissed her.

She was sweet, fragrant; she still tasted a little bit like the ice cream from earlier, and her lips were pleasantly warm in contrast to the cool breeze.

Too soon she pulled back, but she didn’t go far.  They lingered a breath apart for a long moment, watching each other quietly, and then Pidge licked her lips.  “Was that okay?”

“Better than okay.”

She licked her lips again and nodded.  “Okay. Good. I mean … I didn’t know because … yeah.”

He understood, it was the same for him.  “It’s been a while.”

She giggled nervously.  “It’s been forever?”

That tripped him up, and he had to take a second.  “Pidge, was … was I your first kiss? Just now?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, and even in the dim light he could see her blushing as she avoided his gaze.  “Yeah, I … I mean, I never got around to it before.”

She was absolutely adorable.  “You _never got around to it_?”

Her blush darkened.  “No?”

Hunk let himself laugh, and when he did, she seemed to relax just a little.  “Don’t be worried that you were bad at it or anything.”

“It was okay?”

“It was great.”  He let his hand around her waist tighten, holding her a little closer.  “You’re a natural.”

“Oh!  Well, good.”  She shifted closer and put her hand on his cheek.  “Since the first one’s out of the way.”

He let her draw him in for another kiss, and this one was firmer, even warmer; her nose pressed into his cheek and her fingers were there on his neck and he was surrounded by Pidge, filled with her, drowning in his adoration for this spectacular woman who had somehow become everything to him.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, everything was different.

Except … that it wasn’t.

Hunk woke up first and made coffee, and after about half an hour Pidge emerged from her room and joined him on the lanai, and they had their breakfast and chatted about whether the rain would actually stop today.  When they finished eating and went back inside, Pidge slid her hands around Hunk’s waist and said she loved him, and they engaged a few minutes in kissing before they went to get ready for the day.

The sky was still grey when Rayshee arrived to collect them, and she gave them colorful ponchos that matched the one she pulled over her head when she climbed on the motorbike.  But they didn’t get wet on the way to the university, and when they took their lunch break, the sky was clear and blue.

Their Basherim colleagues were excited to learn that they would be attending Mountaintop the next day, and Peet suggested that they might want to get some new clothes, something nice to wear.  The outfits they’d worn to the banquet on their first evening were the nicest things they’d brought, and Peet and the others agreed that Mountaintop was a special occasion that called for going all-out.  Hunk was starting to feel like he was in over his head on this -- like there was something more going on that they didn’t quite understand yet, something that was being lost in translation. But Pidge was excited about shopping, and quietly reassured him when he voiced his uncertainty.

“It’ll be fine,” she said gently, holding one of his hands in both of hers.  “They’re not wrong about us, remember? We were just a little slow on the uptake.”

He couldn’t help laughing.  “Yeah, we were.”

She grinned at him.  “This’ll be fun. Let’s just enjoy being together.”

“Okay.”  He leaned in, intending to kiss her, but he got shy at the last moment and kissed her cheek instead of her lips.

When Rayshee came to pick them up, they explained the plan, and Peet tagged along to a shop that Hunk had expected to be something like a department store, but struck him as much more like a formalwear shop.  Peet took Hunk inside as Rayshee and Pidge continued down the street.

It was a lot to take in.  Hunk had spent the last several days not paying a lot of attention to what the Basherim wore, but now suddenly he was expected to have opinions about styles of clothing that were literally alien to him.

Luckily, as it turned out, covering one’s humanoid body didn’t vary too much between planets.  Peet had him try on a few things that struck him as being either very strange or uncomfortable, and didn’t really fit his concept of what he would wear when he wanted to look particularly good.  But then they hit on something Hunk had actually seen occasionally back home, a long tunic over loose trousers. Most of the tunics here were very brightly colored and adorned with intricate embroidery, and Peet helped him choose one in a rich shade of gold with bright white embroidery, a vaguely leafy motif that trailed in a deep V down the front, and a shallower one on the back.  He liked it well enough on the hanger, but once he tried it on, he knew the search was over. The embroidery emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, and he actually felt kind of sexy with the front henley opening unbuttoned all the way down his chest. He slipped on a pair of pants underneath that were a slightly darker shade of gold, and when he stepped out of the changing cubicle Peet declared that it was perfect.

He turned around in front of the mirrors, trying to get a good critical look at it.  “I don’t know about _perfect_.”

“Yellow is your soul color,” Peet said confidently.  “And I am impressed that the fit of this כמש is right for you without alteration.”

Hunk shrugged, and the fabric moved with him easily.  “Our species aren’t that different.”

“Much less so than I expected.  With the exception of Pidge.”

Hunk chuckled.  “She’s pretty small for a human, too.”

Peet grinned at him and leaned against the wall.  “I think she will like you in this כמש.”

Hunk looked at himself in the mirror again, and his heart fluttered with an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  “I hope so.”

 

 

The next morning’s train ride from Telav to Erusa was uneventful, except for a couple of people getting the nerve to approach them -- it struck Hunk that being a celebrity on Runmayr was different than on the other Coalition planets they’d visited.  Everyone here seemed to try very hard to give them space, and the attention they got was much more like honest curiosity than the starstruck reactions that Lance liked so much.

When they arrived in the station, they spotted Shinra immediately -- she looked just like her sister, and she waved at them as they crossed the platform with their bags in tow.  “Good beginning in Erusa,” she said, smiling. “Hunk and Pidge, yes?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said, resisting the urge to reach out for a handshake.  “Shinra, right?”

“Yes, and this is my partner Arin.”  She gestured to the man beside her, who was a bit shorter, and seemed kind of shy, but greeted them politely.  “If you have your things, we must go. There is still a drive up to the temple, and we will also aggregate our daughter Karee and her partner Jeena on the way.”

Hunk and Pidge let themselves be swept along by all of it, and were both amused that Shinra was even more of a talker than Rayshee.  Arin was on the quiet side, but seemed to grow more comfortable, particularly after they’d picked up Karee and Jeena. They were a little younger than Hunk had expected, probably close to his and Pidge’s age, and obviously very excited for the ceremony at the temple.

On the way, Shinra told them that this was her and Arin’s thirty-eighth time attending the ceremony in the 43 years they had been partners, and it was Karee and Jeena’s first.  Shinra also managed to tell them that Karee had been conceived there before she was drowned out by groans from both girls -- Shinra and Arin were clearly proud of this, and it seemed to be a sort of good luck thing, but it was definitely way more information than anybody else was strictly comfortable with.

Arin managed to change the subject, and gave them a quick primer on the event, the history of which went back thousands and thousands of years.  But Hunk found it difficult to focus as they climbed to higher and higher elevation -- not because the air was thin, it seemed fine, but because he was suddenly getting a case of the jitters.  He’d known this was a serious sort of thing, an official kind of acknowledgement of their relationship, but it was more real now than it had ever been before.

He looked at Pidge, who was twisting her fingers in her lap and looking out the window, away from him.  He couldn’t tell if she was nervous too, she’d done the thing where she went kind of blank. It was a little unnerving, but then again, he wasn’t surprised; she was probably having the same realization he was.

When they arrived at the temple they were met by staff wearing flowing saffron-red robes, who showed them to the tent-like rooms that would be theirs for the couple of days they were here.  It wasn’t very big, especially with the double bed in the center, but Hunk didn’t have time to look at it because they only had a few minutes to change into their formal clothes and head out to the reception.

Hunk changed first, into the white and gold ensemble that Peet had helped him choose.  It was a little rumpled from being in his bag, but he hoped it would look better once it had been on him for a bit.  Pidge went into the bathroom when he was done and said she’d meet him there, so he went outside and followed the sound of music to a broad courtyard that was lined with wooden trellises, which supported vines bearing fragrant flowers.  The sky above them was absolutely enormous, deep blue and cloudless except for around them on the horizon. Arin found him in the crowd -- there were about eighty people there, he estimated -- and showed him where Telav was, though they couldn’t actually see it.  The sun was beginning to sink in that direction.

While they were talking, Hunk felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Karee grinning at him.  “Pidge is here,” she said.

Hunk turned quickly, trying to pick out the shortest person in the crowd -- and there she was, floating towards him, popping in and out of shadow and golden sunlight as she beamed at him.

He was suddenly glad he hadn’t seen her dress before, because seeing it on her now was breathtaking.  Its design was simple, thin straps crossing her shoulders and holding up a silky fall of fabric that skimmed down over her body, gradually flaring out into a full skirt that swished as she walked.  The color faded from a faint petal pink at the top all the way down to oxblood crimson at the hem, and the combination of the swishiness and color gradient almost made her look tall, though the Basherim towering around her kind of ruined the illusion.

She stopped in front of him, and tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”  It was almost a struggle to get the syllable out.  “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.”  She grinned and looked at her feet.  “Rayshee gets the credit for picking it out, I was totally lost in the store.”

“So was I,” Hunk said.  “Peet was a big help.”

“Peet has good taste.”

Hunk’s breath stuttered for a moment in his throat.  “You like it?”

“I love it.  You look amazing, actually.  Are you going to keep this?”

Hunk smoothed his hands down his belly, over the little wrinkles that were already falling out of the fabric.  “Definitely. It’s really comfy, and comfy formalwear is definitely something to keep.”

Pidge giggled.  “Yeah, for sure.  I love this, but I feel like on the castle ship I might have to wear a cardigan or something.  Feels a little revealing for, like, diplomacy.”

Hunk raised his eyebrows.  “Can’t have alien diplomats knowing all about your shoulder freckles.”

She twisted, trying to look at them.  “Oh shit, am I freckling up? I thought I was doing a good job staying out of the sun.”

“You are.”  He reached out and touched her shoulder, a gentle caress that had the desired effect of calming her.  “I don’t think there’s many more than usual, I just don’t get to see them much. They’re cute.”

Pidge wrinkled her nose at him.  “Right.”

“Adorable.”

The music faded to silence, and the crowd around them quieted too, before they heard a sound like a muted bugle from the level below.  Shinra appeared, with Arin right behind her.

“Time for the ceremony,” Shinra said.  “Just follow everyone else and you’ll be fine.”

Pidge reached out and took Hunk’s hand, and he held on firmly.  “Don’t get lost in all these tall people,” he murmured.

“I won’t.”  But she kept holding his hand.  “I’m pretty sure we just follow the sound of the shofar.”

Hunk added _shofar_ to the list of things that he would have to ask her about later, along with her comment from a couple of days before about Manischewitz.  When they came to Runmayr, he hadn’t anticipated that the most intriguing cultural differences he’d experience would be from his human friend.  He wondered if this planet had cultural differences like they did on Earth, or if, like so many other planets they visited, there was one dominant culture.  Something to ask when they got back, he figured.

The steps down to the lower level were fairly steep, like all of the other stairs here; he held Pidge’s hand for stability as she went down them, struggling as usual with being shorter than the Basherim.  But she made it with moderate grace, and then they were in a space that felt different -- it was intimate, romantic; it felt like this was an almost sacred sort of place.

A wooden lattice covered the patio, with posts here and there supporting it, and the entire thing was decked out with blossoming vines and soft fabric.  The scent of the flowers was intense here, and whenever the breeze came through it caught the fabric, changing the quality of light in subtle ways.

Set out in a regular formation were low narrow tables, and beside each was a pair of chairs facing each other, close enough that when they sat down their knees would almost touch.  Well, for tall people they would; Pidge would probably have a bit more leg room.

They followed the lead of everyone else, and sat down near the edge of the space, close enough to Karee and Jeena that they could watch someone without feeling too weird about it.  On the table were a number of floral garlands, and a low, wide vase with an arrangement of different blossoms in it.

“I’m getting the sense that flowers are important,” Pidge whispered, fluffing her skirt and smoothing it over her legs.

“Really?  I couldn’t tell.”

She smirked at him, and then the bugle sounded again, and everyone looked back towards the steps, where an elderly cleric in a bright white robe was standing in front of a stone arch.

“Today,” he said, in a strong, confident voice, “is Aphelion of the four thousand, one hundred and fifth year of the ןנקסעפה.  The Temple of Erusa is honored to host you all, and we extend a special welcome to our off-world guests.”

Hunk had sort of hoped they would just blend in, but apparently not; everyone turned to look at them, a landscape of kind smiles and gentle applause-shuffling before they turned back to the head cleric.

“Aphelion is a time of renewal,” he continued.  “It is the beginning and ending of the cycle of life, and although time simply continues through it every year, we make an effort to pause in our lives, to reflect, to change what needs changing and introduce something new if the time is right.

“Those of you who are here have seen that the time is right to begin or renew a partnership, to recognize the love between you, and to make a fresh commitment to one another.”

Hunk had expected the word _commitment_ to pop up, but it still set his heart fluttering in a way that wasn’t completely pleasant.  He looked at Pidge; she was still turned, facing the cleric, but her lips were pressed together and she looked like she was trying not to get emotional.

“Flowers are central to our metaphor today,” the cleric said, holding up a garland the size of a headband made of white flowers that looked sort of like tuberose; Hunk glanced down, and sure enough, an identical one was on the table beside him and Pidge.  It didn’t have the same strong fragrance as tuberose, which he found a little odd. “Blossoms happen naturally, and they allow the plants to propagate. And in order for them to be their most beautiful, we cultivate them, we care for them. Even so, they do not last forever.  They are fragile, and even with the best care, they will eventually die.” The cleric set down the garland, and picked up one made of green leaves -- there was one of these on their table too, and it looked exactly like a maile lei. “But a plant that gets appropriate care will bloom again, just like a partnership.  We hold this ceremony every Aphelion to remind ourselves to take this regular care with our partner, to cultivate the partnership and to keep it healthy and strong, and we bind ourselves together with flowers to remember the beauty and fragility of what we have created.”

The cleric set down the garland again, and Hunk bit his lip, trying not to cry.  He hadn’t expected this to be so emotional -- which meant he hadn’t thought about what to expect, because _obviously_ this is what this ceremony was about.  And his relationship with Pidge was so new, so fresh, that everything the cleric said was a revelation to him, was something that he hadn’t had time yet to meditate on.  His love for Pidge was something he had nurtured for so long in his secret heart, but not allowed to bloom until a couple of days ago, and it was so new and sweet that it was overwhelming.

“Please face one another.”

Pidge turned, and the setting sun behind Hunk flashed off her glasses.  There was uncertainty in her expression, but she also had the look she got when she was determined, when she believed firmly that what she was doing was important.

“Partners to the west,” the cleric said, gesturing -- this was the side Hunk was on.  “Please adorn your partner with these words: _on this day of renewal, I affirm my promise to you._ ”

They watched Karee and Jeena do it first, and then Hunk lifted the flower garland and tried to set it on Pidge’s head -- but it was too big, it slipped right over and set awkwardly on her glasses, so he settled it around her neck.

“On this day of renewal,” he whispered, trying not to let his voice crack, “I affirm my promise to you.”

She was beaming at him, even as she looked a little embarrassed -- everyone else’s garland sat above their forehead.

They heard a gentle laugh and turned; a couple they hadn’t met was watching, and the man on Hunk’s side took a huge flower from the arrangement on their table and handed it to Hunk.  “Try this. It’s allowed to do it differently, it represents you uniquely.”

The flower looked like a lotus blossom, soft pink and the size of Pidge’s entire face.  He tucked it behind her ear, and she blushed as he trailed his fingers along her jawline.  He could never remember the tradition in Hawaii, which side meant she was single and which meant she had a lover.  He supposed they weren’t in Hawaii, so it didn’t exactly matter.

The cleric had been watching; Hunk gave him a little smile, and then he continued.

“Partners to the east, please adorn your partner with the same words: _on this day of renewal, I affirm my promise to you._ ”

Pidge had clearly caught on that the Basherim had slightly bigger heads than humans did, so she used the ribbons on the end of the leafy green crown to quickly tie off a small loop before she lifted it and set it on Hunk’s head.  It fit perfectly, sitting just over the top of his forehead and barely resting on his ears. She beamed at him as she let her fingers trail down his cheeks and the sides of his neck, and he caught her wrists gently, holding her hands against his chest.

“On this day of renewal,” she murmured, “I affirm my promise to you.”

“In the giving and receiving of garlands,” the cleric said, “you have made this pledge to one another for one year and one day.  By the wrapping of the final garland, you are sealed with the blessing of עלאהם.”

Several clerics wearing saffron robes stood up from where they’d been sitting, and went to the first row of couples.  As the cleric lifted the long, multicolored garland, the couples sat forward on their chairs, foreheads together, and the cleric wrapped the garland loosely around their necks and shoulders.

Pidge turned to Hunk, her eyes wide.  “Ready?” she mouthed.

He nodded, and swallowed hard -- he didn’t really want to be nervous about this, he was sure of what he was doing, sure that he wanted to make this connection with her.  But he was nervous all the same, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his arms and belly.

There were three couples before them, and then the cleric arrived at their spot.  She lifted the long garland from the table, then set the end with the bright red flower over Hunk’s shoulder.  He looked at Pidge; she scooted forward, and he did the same, then took her hands in his on their knees and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.

He closed his eyes and was barely even aware of the cleric, he was so wrapped up in the incredible feeling of togetherness with Pidge.  He felt the warmth of her skin on his hands and his forehead, the gentle puff of her breath on his mouth. He matched his breathing to hers, holding her hands tighter, and she shifted even closer.

Hunk had no idea how much time passed while he floated here, wrapped up with Pidge in this sweet cocoon of flowers and cool air and warm sunlight.  He wasn’t nervous anymore, he was at peace -- just for this moment, everything was perfect.

The quiet stayed over the gathered pairs for quite some time, a soft blanket of stillness, holding them apart from the world, in this sacred place where they could all simply be, as partners and as a community.

But eventually activity returned, a bit at a time.  Hunk didn’t hear it at first, and only rose out of his trance when he felt someone near him stand up.  He blinked his eyes open and sat back at the same time as Pidge did, though the garland draped around their shoulders held them close to one another still.  Pidge picked up the end of it that was between them, and unwrapped it from his neck, then hers, and finally sat all the way back as Hunk took it from her. He looked around -- other couples were still wearing theirs in a variety of ways, so he draped it over his shoulders and it hung nearly to the floor.

“How are you?” Pidge said softly.

It seemed kind of an odd thing to say out loud after what they’d just experienced.  “I’m amazing. Transcendent.”

A little giggle bubbled out of her.  “Transcendent?”

He shrugged, taking her hand again.  “It’s the word that came to me.”

“You’re not expressible algebraically?”

He laughed.  “Of course I’m not.”

She giggled.  “So, like ... you feel like you’re more than you were before?”

“I feel like _we’re_ more.”  He stood slowly, and she joined him.  “I feel like … like I’ve never been so connected to anybody.”

“Me too.”  She wrapped both of her hands around his as they picked their way back towards the stairs; faint music began to play from the upper patio, so that was clearly where they were meant to go.  “I wasn’t expecting this to be quite so … profound, I guess? I didn’t even really know it was possible to feel like this.”

“Me neither.”  He swallowed. “I liked it, though.”

“Me too.”

He held her hand as she climbed the stairs -- and for her, it really was a climb -- and they found that the upper patio had been flipped while they were in the ceremony, set with tables and chairs, and a small group of musicians.  Strings of fairy lights crossed over the open space, and those might have been there before but they were illuminated now, easing the transition from day into twilight and making the whole thing feel almost unbearably romantic.

He caught Pidge gazing at it in wonder, and he was struck -- as he seemed to continue to be -- by her beauty.  She made his heart flutter, and right now it was the best feeling in the world. “Can I kiss you?” he said quickly, and she blinked, refocusing on him with a little smile that might have been a smirk.

“Of course.”

He set one hand around the back of her head and she stretched up to meet him, a press of lips, soft at first, into which he tried to pour _everything_ he was feeling, to tell her with his touch how much he absolutely adored her, how sublime it was that he was having this experience with her.

“So, um,” she said, withdrawing before he was ready to be done, “it occurs to me that I’m not totally sure if kissing is, like … the done thing here.  Right now.”

A sensation dropped through Hunk that was distinctly unpleasant.  He knew that the Basherim kissed; they’d even seen couples at the festival on the beach doing things that would get an R rating back home.  He straightened up, looking around the crowd, trying to get a feel for the atmosphere, and also trying to see if anyone had noticed them smooching and was giving any kind of signals about it.

To his immense relief, when he actually made the effort to look he was able to spot a few other couples, mainly young people by the looks of it, who had removed themselves to the edges of the patio and were being extremely affectionate, all kisses and giggles.  One pair looked so engrossed in each other that Hunk wouldn’t have been surprised if they would remove themselves entirely before too long. And no one around them seemed to be giving them a second look.

He returned his attention to Pidge -- she was looking around too, but having less success due to her height.  “I think we’re okay,” he said softly. “I mean, not everyone is kissing. But a few people are.”

“Okay.”  She relaxed visibly, and squeezed his hand.  “We’re already kind of a spectacle, so I’m kind of hoping to be inconspicuous.  Imagine the _epic_ shit we would get in if Allura found out we caused a diplomatic incident at a temple by sucking each other’s faces.”

Hunk laughed, and found himself calming down a little.  “She would actually, literally murder us.”

“She really would.”  Pidge smiled at him, and breathed a little sigh.  “I’m so hungry. They’re going to feed us dinner, aren’t they?”

“These people won’t pass up an opportunity for a banquet.  They’re probably just setting it up.”

Pidge seemed disappointed, but she let go of it when they started meandering through the crowd, taking in the whole experience and meeting a number of the other participants.  Most of them confessed they’d had absolutely no idea that the aliens would be attending -- and of course everyone knew who they were -- but there were a few people who mentioned hearing a rumor and were excited to find out it was true.

Just when Hunk was feeling like he’d had about enough socializing, a young cleric announced that dinner was served.  Hunk wanted to hang back a little, to not go straight for the buffet line, but Pidge tugged insistently on his hand. In a few minutes they had plates of food that were an awful lot like the meal they’d enjoyed at the banquet on their first evening, and tall glasses of _pem_ that was a bit different than what they’d had before.  They found seats at a tall table near the edge of the patio.

Shinra and Arin joined them a few minutes later, once Pidge had scarfed down half of her plate and was slowing down again.

“So,” Arin said, grinning, “what did you think?”

“It was amazing,” Hunk said, and Pidge nodded.

“I didn’t think it would be so emotional,” she said.  “But I really liked it.”

“Me too,” Hunk agreed.  “It was worth taking the time away from our work in the city, definitely.”

Shinra and Arin shared a bright smile.  “I am grateful that Rayshee remembered this and invited you.  It has been special for everyone to have you among us this year.”

“We weren’t distracting?” Hunk said.  “Like, I kind of feel like this is such a special thing in your culture, it’s special for the couples.”

“Many of us have done this a large number of times,” Shinra said.  “It is meant to occur repeatedly, and it is special in a different way each time.”

“This time, sharing it with offworld guests was part of what made it different,” Arin said.

Hunk supposed he could get behind that, and stop feeling awkward about feeling like they were crashing the party.  He looked around, aiming to change the subject, and noticed Karee and Jeena at a different table by themselves, and being very affectionate -- Jeena was delicately playing with a flower on Karee’s forehead as they gazed into each other’s eyes, completely ignoring the glasses of _pem_ on the table in front of them.

“I get the feeling like your daughter and her partner did a pretty good job ignoring us,” Hunk said, and Shinra and Arin both turned a little bit to look at them.

“I see you are correct,” Arin chuckled.  “But they are both so young.”

“This is their first time coming to the Temple on Aphelion for the ceremony,” Shinra said proudly. “דע ורה זט נר פר טגנ לגאלש גחנטט.”

It took the translator a second after she finished to kick in: “ _They were legally married just four days ago_.”

 _Married?  Oh -- oh_ _shit_ _._

Everything suddenly made sense, and Hunk felt like he’d been kicked in the chest; he looked at Pidge, who had gone even paler than usual and wore a shocked expression that he was sure matched his own.  Her beverage was stalled halfway to her mouth. “Married?” she croaked.

Shinra smiled, though she seemed uncertain. “Yes, married. That was the legal part and this is the ceremonial part. Is the translator struggling?”

“I think it just stopped struggling,” Hunk managed. “Um ... this word, marriage. That’s the word everyone has been using for this all along, right?”

Shinra nodded, and glanced worriedly at Arin. “Yes, this is the word for it. Did the translator fail?”

“Oh, it failed big time,” Pidge said softly.  She set her glass down with a little extra force.

“Just to be sure on this,” Hunk said, trying to clamp down on the anxiety building in his belly.  “When you say married, you mean … you mean two people love each other and promise to be together forever?”

“Oh, this isn’t forever,” Arin said quickly.  “This ceremonial marriage technically is only one year and one day.  The legal marriage is the one that’s forever.”

“Otherwise correct,” Shinra agreed.

“Wonderful,” Pidge said, sounding a bit strangled.  “That’s definitely _not_ what the translator was telling us before.”

“It, um,” Hunk began, feeling he ought to explain their conundrum. “Up until now it used a word for us that meant ... it meant that we’re part of each other’s lives, but not necessarily lovers, or ... committed.”

Shinra and Arin gave one another a puzzled look; must have hit another tricky word. “Committed,” Arin said, “like stuck together?” He made a hand motion, pressing his palms gently together.

Hunk swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

“The word it used,” Pidge said, hesitantly, “when it translated _marriage_ before.  Partners. In our language can mean lovers, but can also mean just friends. Or even just people who work together.”

“כאלעגנ?” Shinra said slowly, and a moment later the translator provided: “Colleagues?”

“Right.” Pidge nodded, looking uncertainly at Hunk. “Colleagues. And, I mean, the Voltron thing is kind of more than that, and we’re friends too, but — yeah. I think ... I think you guys thought we were more from the very beginning.”

“When you first came,” Arin said, “in the presentation, Hunk said you were his spouse.”

“That’s the word that has other meanings,” Hunk said, wishing he could reach out and touch Pidge, to reassure himself she was still right there, but suddenly absolutely terrified of doing it. “I used it to mean colleagues, that we work together all the time. I guess the translator thought I meant ... the other one.”

“For some reason,” Pidge said under her breath. She crossed her arms and curled into herself a bit, but still watched Hunk from underneath her fringe.  She was turning quite pink. “This is why Rayshee apologized for the two-bedroom apartment.”

Oh god, she was totally right. Why hadn’t they figured that out right away?

Shinra looked very concerned now. “Your thesis is that you were not spouses? And now ... you have become married by our tradition.”

“We weren’t even a couple,” Hunk said. Shinra looked confused — must be the translator again — so he tried to explain. “Pidge ... she didn’t know that I love her. Not until two days ago.”

Shinra and Arin made identical _oh shit_ faces; that must be a universal thing, Hunk thought, realizing that he might be getting a little bit freaked out.   _Jeez, dude, do you think?_

“Deep apologies,” Arin gasped. “We had no direction to injure you.”

“It’s okay,” Pidge said, apparently beginning to regain her composure.

“We must tell Rayshee,” Shinra said. “This has been a large misfortune.” She got quickly to her feet, Arin right beside her.

“You are bending in the breeze?” Arin said.

Pidge worked out his meaning before Hunk did. “Yeah, we’re okay here. We need to talk about this anyway, I think.”

Shit, did they ever.

Hunk turned to face Pidge directly, and her eyes were wide with an emotion he couldn’t exactly read, which was an unfamiliar feeling, and one that he definitely didn’t like.

“So,” she said carefully.

Hunk felt like he was struggling to breathe.  “Yeah, um. So. I don’t … I know we went along with it before, when Rayshee thought we were a couple.  And that worked out fine, but….” He swallowed. “But I feel like getting married isn’t the sort of thing we can just _go along with_.  Is it?”

Pidge bit her lips, and when she looked up at him, the look in her eyes was more familiar.  “I mean, like … why not, though?”

 _Why not_ wasn’t the reaction he had expected from her.  And he found he didn’t have an answer, there was no _why not_ that was lurking on the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t think of even a single reason.  There had to be some, hadn’t there? But before he could get himself together to say something, she continued.

“I mean, we sort of do everything all at once, don’t we?  That’s like, our thing. And I don’t mean just the other day, though of course that’s a great example of the trend, but like, _all_ of this, the whole coming to space and being Voltron thing and then everything that’s happened since.  We just jump in with both feet and _do it_ and it’s all worked out so far.”  Her face was becoming flushed and her eyes were bright with exhilaration.  “So to reiterate my thesis: _why not_?  Why don’t we try out this being kinda-sorta married thing?  It’s only a year and a day, and their years are like forty percent shorter than ours.”  She smiled at him, lopsided and all teeth and a little uncertain and so absolutely, perfectly Pidge.  “What do you say?”

He finally let himself release the tension he’d been carrying, and he beamed at her, wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her cheek before burying his face in the side of her neck, inhaling the lovely fragrance of her hair and the floral garland he’d set there.  She gripped him with both arms, her fingertips digging into his back, and he felt like he could feel her pulse below his lips, quick but steady. “Let’s do it,” he murmured in her ear, then pulled back to face her again; she looked delighted. “Let’s just try it. And if it goes all sideways, then we’ll deal with it.”

“We always do.”

“Yeah.  And, like, I _adore_ you, so I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

She smiled even bigger, though he wasn’t sure how that was possible.  “I think you’re pretty great, too.”

“There are definitely worse things to build a marriage on.”

She laughed.  “Yeah, for sure.  And, you know, I always told myself if I ever got married, it would have to be to someone who was my best friend.”

Hunk felt like his heart was going to melt, or possibly explode.  “I’m your best friend?”

“Well, sure.”  She leaned into him, lifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder, playing with the leaves of his headband.  “Aren’t we?”

He slid his arm around her waist.  “I mean, I never really thought of it in those terms, but yeah, we are.”

“And I love you,” she said softly, brushing her finger against his ear, which made him shiver.  “This would be a different conversation entirely if I wasn’t as stupidly in love with you as I am.”

He turned and leaned in to kiss her gently.  “I love you too,” he breathed. “I love you so much, Pidge.”

Her breath caught in her chest, and she kissed him again.  “I want to tell you,” she said, sitting back, a little breathless.  “I sort of wanted to tell you the other day on the beach and I chickened out, but I … I can tell you now.  For a while now -- like, way longer than we’ve been on this mission -- I ... I’ve felt _something_ for you. But it was like I couldn’t make myself look directly at it. I didn’t want to deal with the implications of having feelings for someone on the team. But, you know ... being here with you, and all this stuff that’s happened, it’s kind of opened my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with us being together. A big old unrequited crush might have been an issue, but that’s not the case.”

Hunk had been trying not to think about any of the problems that their relationship might cause when they inevitably went back to their normal lives.  He swallowed, and wished she had kept kissing him instead of telling him this. “It might be a problem if we ever ... um. Broke up.”

She shrugged, clearly forcing herself to act casual. “I think we can deal with that if it happens. But we’re best friends first, you know? I think that’s stronger.”

The beating of his heart cracked the knot of anxiety in his chest, its fluttering dispersing the pieces as Pidge kept her hand on his shoulder, still caressing him gently, almost absentmindedly.  “I think you’re right,” he said.

“Of course I’m right.”

Hunk laughed.  “Just because you’re my wife now doesn’t mean you get to use that one.”

“Come on, man, I’d use that one even if I wasn’t your wife.”  She gave him a good smirk. “I think I see Arin watching us. We should tell him and Shinra that they didn’t fuck things up after all.”

She waved, and Hunk smiled at them as he slipped his arm around her waist, holding her gently but firmly against his side.

God, his _wife!_  Pidge had somehow become his wife today, and it was such a singular thing that he couldn’t begin to pick out all the different bits of it.  All he could really put his finger on was that he wasn’t sure he’d ever been quite so deliriously happy as he was in this moment.

Shinra arrived first, with Arin right behind her.  “You look pleased?” she said, with a hopeful edge to her voice, sitting down across the table from them.

“We are,” Pidge said.  “You know, we … we didn’t expect this, but we’re good with it.  It’s not a bad thing.”

Shinra relaxed so dramatically that Arin flinched to catch her, and Hunk almost laughed -- of course Shinra would be the dramatic one.  “I am inspired with relief,” she gasped.

“You are certain?” Arin asked, clearly not satisfied.  “You are not sparing our reputation?”

“No,” Hunk said.  “Pidge might not have been my spouse before, but she is now.”

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder.  “We’re good. We really are.”

Arin finally smiled, and put his hand on Shinra’s shoulder.  “You must speak to Rayshee again. She will be flooding her worry.”

“Yes,” Shinra said regaining her composure.  “Thank you for telling us, and we are deeply sorry again that the nature of this event was not appropriately clear to you.”

“It’s really okay,” Pidge said; she picked up her head and glanced at Hunk with a sneaky smile.  “I think it was about time something like this went down, anyway.”

Arin and Shinra exchanged a look that Hunk was definitely starting to recognize.  “Translator?” he guessed.

“Indeed.”  Arin ran a hand over his head, messing up his hair.  “But unimportant. Bites of speech remain a struggle, it seems, but your meaning is clear.”  And then he took Shinra’s hand, and they both gave Hunk and Pidge a little wave before they headed off again.

Hunk breathed a sigh -- it was looking like the evening’s drama was finally done, just as the sun slipped fully below the horizon.  Pidge snuggled into his side a little, and he thanked whatever deity was watching over him that he had made it to this moment in his life.

They held each other quietly until the sky was going dark and the music changed, something more upbeat.  Their glasses were empty by then; Pidge was vocally disappointed when she noticed, and after giving him one more little squeeze she got up to get them more.

She was gone longer than Hunk had expected, but when she came back she was balancing two glasses in one hand and a plate full of tiny, pretty sweets in the other.  “Couldn’t pass these up,” she said, grinning.

“And why would you?”  He took the glasses and set them on the table, and she sat down right next to him again.

Pidge had managed to not get two of the same kind, but they succeeded in sharing each small bite.  It was a little weird; Hunk hadn’t shared food like this with someone in a very long time. It surprised him a little how intimate it was to watch her take a bite out of something, see her rosy lips wrapped around it before she handed it to him to finish.  People were always saying that sharing food was like kissing, but the similarity had never been stronger than this.

When they finished the sweets, he returned to the _pem_ , which somehow mingled with the flavors that lingered in his mouth to create something totally new.  Pidge seemed to notice the same thing, and he was struck again -- shouldn’t he be used to this by now? -- by how incredible it was to be sharing this evening with her.

The beat of the music was almost hypnotic, in that way that he’d found certain pop music back home.  It was the same kind of feel-good bop that got you moving down to your bones and loosened all of your worries, filling you with a sense of wellbeing that came from knowing that in this moment everything was perfect.

He looked down at Pidge again, watching her have the same experience, her eyes partly closed as she moved subtly to the rhythm.  The freckles on her shoulders were still obvious even in the lower light, and Hunk desperately wanted to kiss them.

And why was he hesitating?  She was his wife now, this was literally their wedding banquet.  He wasn’t going to get a more appropriate opportunity.

He bent down and brushed his lips across her shoulder, eliciting a little surprised noise from her chest.  She turned, but he moved too, trailing his lips up her neck and holding her waist with both hands. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I like your freckles.”  He dropped a kiss to her lips, then to her clavicle on the other side, drawing another little gasp out of her.

She put her hand on his cheek and pushed him gently away, but she was smiling.  “You’re tickling me.”

“Oh, so you’re ticklish?”

She giggled and ducked her chin.  “Don’t even try me, I’ll kick your ass.”

He laughed and pulled her into a gentle hug.  “Noted.”

But _god,_ he was drunk on her tonight.  Maybe a little on the beverage too, but Pidge herself was intoxicating.  He’d never been as in love with anyone as he was with every single detail of her right now.  He desperately wanted to keep kissing her freckles, but she didn’t seem to like it that much.  Not right now, anyway. He kept his arm around her waist as she pulled out of the hug, but she didn’t go far, so he got to keep reveling in the feeling of the silky fabric sliding against her skin.  And he wasn’t certain, and it wasn’t like he was trying to feel her up or anything, but now that he was paying attention it didn’t seem like she was wearing anything underneath. Certainly nothing that showed any lines underneath the dress.  He couldn’t help but admire her commitment to the look.

“I love this dress,” he breathed.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”  He had an urge to kiss her, so he set one on her temple.  “You look incredible in it.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, husband,” she said, setting a hand on his leg.  “You pick this out yourself?”

He shivered.  “It was about half Peet’s doing.”

“That’s fair.  This was about seventy percent Rayshee.”

“I’ll have to thank her when we see her.”

Pidge giggled again, and stood up, but didn’t take her hand off Hunk’s knee.  “Dance with me?”

He took her hand in his.  “Of course.”

 

 

It wasn’t clear how late the party was going to go, but it showed no signs of stopping by the time Pidge was getting droopy, and Hunk was starting to feel the call of a pillow too.  Shinra and Arin were still wide awake and chatting with people whose names Hunk couldn’t recall, but they said good night and then headed back to their room, where they could still hear the music, but it was just a pleasant background hum.

Hunk stepped into their room first, but stopped short.  He’d been in here earlier, of course, and dropped off their stuff, but it felt like so long ago, and his nerves had been so frayed he hadn’t really paid attention.

Pidge pushed around him.  “What are you -- oh.”

There was one bed.  It was like a futon, low to the ground, but made up nicely and definitely wide enough for two.  But it was the only place to sleep, there wasn’t much space around it. Certainly no room for anyone to lie down.

“Well,” Pidge said, sounding clinical.  “I should have realized this was the case when Shinra said that conceiving a baby here is good luck.”

“No kidding.”  He finally turned to look at Pidge, who was staring at the bed and biting her lip.  “So, we … I mean, there’s nowhere else. Unless one of us sits up all night.”

Pidge shook her head slowly.  “Yeah, no. I can’t really do that anymore, or my back kills me the next day.  I have to lie down.”

“Me too.  Lie down, I mean.  I sleep like shit if I’m sitting.”  He let out a breath forcefully, trying to be rational about this and ignore the million inscrutable emotions inside him.  “I … I’m okay with sharing. Just to sleep, I mean.”

Pidge licked her lips and nodded, and finally glanced up at him.  “I’m okay with that too. I mean….” She laughed, a breathy, awkward giggle.  “We’re married, right? I think we can share a bed.”

Gentle lightness bubbled up in Hunk’s chest.  “Which side do you want?”

Pidge thought for a moment, then crossed in front of him.  “This one. So when I’m on my side I have my back to you.” She perched on the side of the bed, testing the softness of the mattress.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  How is it?”

“Like the ones we have back in Telav.  Should be plenty comfortable.”

Hunk liked his bed in their apartment, better than the one in his bunk in the castle for sure -- the Basherim clearly cared a lot about being comfortable and well-rested.

He stepped to the bed and lowered himself onto it, sitting down a bit hard since it was so low.  It was just as soft as what they had in Telav. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before,” he said, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Neither have I,” Pidge said.  “But, like, people do it all the time, right?”

“Sure.  All over the galaxy, apparently.”

A little laugh escaped her.  “Yeah, apparently.”

He twisted around to face her.  “Can I kiss you?”

She looked surprised for a moment, but she was smiling.  “Yeah.”

She leaned in, and her touch was electric.  He pressed himself into her, opening his mouth; he’d never kissed like this before, never really known what the appeal was, but his body told him it was the thing to do and Pidge’s reaction was exactly what he’d wanted, her tongue sliding against his in a way that was oddly not that weird.  Just … warm. Comfortable. Alive and vital and very, very exciting.

They kissed until Hunk found himself wanting more than he was prepared to want; he pulled away first, and Pidge tried to follow, but stilled when he put his hand on her shoulder, not even pushing her back, but quietly saying _enough_.

Her face was soft and open as she watched him through half-lidded eyes, her lips and cheeks pink.  He tried not to let his gaze be drawn to the way her chest rose and fell evenly underneath her silky dress -- here, alone together in their room, it looked suddenly way more like lingerie than it had when they were out in public.

She took her leg down off his knee, and he hadn’t even realized she had started to climb on top of him.  Definitely good they had stopped when they did.

He cleared his throat.  “I, uh. I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

She brushed her hair back from her face and nodded.  “Yeah. Good call.”

He took his time in the bathroom, and when he emerged Pidge had changed into the tank top and shorts she was using as pajamas here.  Hunk felt a little awkward not wearing a shirt to bed, but in the climate here he overheated too easily in his sleep. Maybe it was going to be different at elevation, but the last thing he wanted for his first night sleeping beside Pidge was to wake up sweaty and gross.

And it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him topless before.  Not often, but a few times.

She didn’t seem to react to the sight of him half-naked, just slipped by him and into the bathroom.  He got into bed -- on the side Pidge had assigned him -- and rolled over a few times, trying to figure out how he was going to be comfortable in yet another new bed.

He had mostly figured himself out when Pidge got done and came back out into the room, walked all the way around the foot of the bed to her side, and switched off the light before she got into bed beside him.

It was totally, _totally_ weird to feel the mattress and blankets shifting while she got herself settled.  Hunk wasn’t sure he would actually be able to sleep with her right next to him. He turned onto his side, with his back to her.

“Good night,” she said softly.

“Good night.”  He swallowed. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

As if.

He laid there for a long time, hyper-aware of her breathing, of when she moved a little bit.  He wished he had any sense of time; he was exhausted, but he was way too keyed up to sleep, and he really wanted to know if he was wasting his whole night lying here and being obsessed about Pidge lying next to him in the bed, or if it had only been twenty minutes.  The sound of the music from the party was still going, but it was soft enough that it was really just a hum and he couldn’t use that to judge the passage of time.

Enough was enough.  He took a careful breath.  “Pidge?”

“Mm.”

“You still awake?”

She sighed and rolled slowly onto her back. “Yeah.”

“Are you ... I mean, this is kind of awkward.”

She shifted, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Yeah, a little.”

He could just barely make out her face in the dark. “Do you ... is it ok if we cuddle? I just ... it’s weird not touching you.”

She was very quiet for a minute, not even breathing. “Yeah, I ... that would be nice. I’d like that. How should we ...?”

He swallowed, collecting his bravery. “Can I kiss you first? And then we can, like, figure it out organically.”

She made a little exhalation that could have been a laugh, and rolled to face him, scooting even closer. “That works for me.”

He reached out and slid his hand around her waist, drawing her close, and she laid her palm on his cheek and kissed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Hunk woke to warm light filling the room, orangey-pink and gentle, and then he noticed something warm pressed against his lower back.  When he let himself wake up for another minute, he realized it was Pidge -- they were curled up back-to-back in this nice large bed.

And they were married.

Now that he’d slept on it, it hardly seemed real.  Even the fact that they were a couple now and he’d kissed her a bunch of times seemed like a dream, and he’d been living with that one for a few days.

He tried to stay still for as long as he could, but eventually the pressure in his bladder was too much.  He got up as quietly as possible, and when he returned from relieving himself, Pidge had rolled over to face the center of the bed.

She sighed gently as he climbed back under the covers.  “Hi.”

“Hey.  Did I wake you?”

“Mm.  I dunno.  I’m not totally online yet.”

Her eyes were open just a crack, and he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm.  It’s a good bed.”

“It didn’t bother you, having me here?”

She smiled gently.  “It took me a while to fall asleep, but I liked having you here.”

He let his next idea fall from his lips before he could think about it.  “Do you want to try it again? Like, when we go back?”

She blinked at him, seeming to wake up a little more.  “You mean sharing a bed?”

“Yeah.  I liked it, I like having you with me.”

The corner of her mouth turned up.  “Well, we are married. It’s kind of expected, isn’t it?”

“But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no.”  She shifted closer and slid her hand around his waist.  “I want to try it. It might be different at home, but I’m interested to try.”  And then she kissed him.

This kiss went on longer than the first; it was leisurely, exploratory.  They had all the time in the world for it, and no real goals. When their touch became more intermittent, Hunk found his voice again.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  Another gentle kiss.  “I love you so much.”

“I wish I’d said before.”

“It’s okay.”  She tightened her grip on his body.  “We have each other now.”

From somewhere outside, the muted bugle played a short melody, and Pidge sighed.

“Sounds like that’s the breakfast shofar.”

Hunk kept his hands exactly where they were.  “What’s a shofar, anyway?”

She blinked at him, and then grinned.  “It’s a ram’s horn, hollowed out so you can make a big-ass noise with it.  It’s traditional to sound it on, like, Rosh Hashanah and stuff. The Jewish new year,” she clarified, before he could ask.

“Oh, okay.”

“Sometimes I forget I’m a lot more Jewish than most people I know.”

“That’s especially true here.”

She giggled, and moved the blanket aside to sit up.  “Come on, let’s go see what they’ve got for breakfast.”

“Do you think we need to dress up again?”

“I wouldn’t think so.  I’m just going to wear my normal clothes.  We’re leaving in a few hours anyway.”

Over breakfast they got actually introduced to a lot of people they’d met briefly the night before, whom Shinra and Arin had gotten to know over the dozens of years they’d all been coming to the event.  In a group effort, they managed to share the history of the Mountaintop ceremony -- though apparently its origins were shrouded enough in the mists of history that there were actually multiple conflicting versions of the story.  Nobody seemed upset about this, though, and Pidge was clearly delighted by it.

 

The trip back to Telav was as uneventful as the first journey, and when they arrived the festival had clearly kicked into high gear.  Once they had dropped their bags in their apartment, they went out and spent the evening on the beach, dancing to Basherlik EDM and drinking maybe a little too much _pem_.  Hunk let Pidge kiss him whenever she so much as got close to him.  Touching her was so easy now, so delightful and enticing, he wondered how he’d ever been uncertain about this.  She fit so perfectly in his arms, by his side, against his lips.

She slept in his bed that night, both of them a little drunk, and when the sun rose in the morning Pidge had sprawled over way more than half the bed.  Hunk extracted himself gently and went to start the coffee, leaving her to sleep off the rest of it on her own.

Rayshee came for them at the usual time, and she looked well-rested; Hunk hadn’t realized before that she’d clearly been working extraordinarily hard to ensure that their visit went smoothly.

Their last day of work didn’t feel as productive as they’d been before they headed off to Mountaintop, but Hunk supposed that was to be expected when they were wrapping up their projects and chatting a lot about the unexpected changes to their relationship.  Their new colleagues were fascinated by the story.

They worked late, but finally everything was over, and Rayshee picked them up one last time.  The three of them got dinner together at the festival on the beach by their apartment, and Hunk picked up a bunch of extra fruits to take back to the castle.

And then Rayshee left, and they were one their own for one final night on Runmayr.  The festival was a lot quieter than it had been since they arrived, but they went out on the beach again anyway.  Even without a party, walking along the beach at night was something they wouldn’t be able to experience again for a while, and there was definitely something to be said for the whimsy of interrupting multiple games of glow-in-the-dark beach kooshball.

As they walked, Pidge took Hunk’s hand.  “Can’t believe we go home tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe we’ve only been here a week.  I mean, when we arrived we weren’t even a couple, and now we’re married.  That’s gotta be, what, two months’ worth of relationship?”

Pidge made a sound of agreement, but she looked awkward.  “Yeah, we kinda did everything really fast.”

Hunk had been trying not to think about how quickly everything had happened between them.  It had seemed unremarkable when they were in the middle of it, but the prospect of going home was changing his perspective.  “It does kind of look like we’re rushing things, but I don’t really feel like it, you know? This whole week with you hasn’t felt like like _woah slow down,_ it felt like _all right, finally_.”

Pidge stopped walking, and as she turned towards him she reached up and set her hand on his cheek. “I know exactly what you mean.”  She pulled him into a gentle kiss, and he let his hands slip around her waist, holding her close. She pulled back just enough to speak.  “We should’ve been doing this _forever_.”

He leaned in to catch her lips again, kissing her harder than the moment before.  She was soft and pliant in his hands, kissing him thoroughly as her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him against her.

Hunk could have kissed her for hours, but before too long a chilly wave licked at their toes, breaking the spell -- there wasn’t much of a tide here, but it was coming in.  She lowered her arms, and Hunk reluctantly let go of her waist, and they stepped a few meters away to drier ground.

“It’s gonna be different when we go back,” he said.  “This has all been a holiday romance or whatever, and everyone here thought we were together anyway.  The rest of the team is going to be pretty surprised.”

“Oh,” Pidge said.  “Dang, yeah. I hadn’t really thought about that yet.  I mean, like, I don’t think keeping this relationship going is gonna be difficult, but telling the rest of them that we accidentally got married is … a bit much?”

“I think the trickier part might be telling them that we’re okay with it.”

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, then stuffed both hands in her pockets.  “Do we have to tell them anything?”

“I mean, unless we’re super secretive I think they’ll find out pretty quickly.  As long as you don’t decide to stop kissing me.”

Pidge giggled nervously.  “I’m gonna keep kissing you.  That’s the best part of all this.”

Hunk’s face prickled; he didn’t think they’d actually kiss in front of anyone on purpose, but he wouldn’t be able to resist situations where it was possible they’d be seen.  Hardly anyplace on the castleship was really private. “So will we tell them we’re together?”

“I think so.  There’s bound to be an opening during the debriefing, right?  Let’s not mention the marriage, though. It’s a great story, but I don’t think I want to share that much.”

“Yeah.”  He glanced at her with a little smile.  “That can just be ours.”

She stepped back over to him, taking his hand in hers once again.  “I think I like having some things that are just ours.”


End file.
